A Long December
by Sirena Brown
Summary: Chapter 9 is revised and CHAPTER 10 IS UP! After 2 years! I have been advised to tell everyone that I make no promises as to the outcome of this story... PG13 for violence, sexual references, and language.
1. A Long December

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A/N: 

**Many points to Cassie Claire, who started me writing this story in the first place. Love her stuff, can't wait for DV Chapter 11 (hint hint) Thanks also for the use of "world revolves around Harry" comment.

**Points to D for proofreading and pointing out my subtle plot-flaws. Read her stories: she writes as DraconiaSummers.

** ::admits to stealing "mile wide" line from Monty Python:: Thanks, and remember, "It's just a bunny!"

**To all readers: enjoy! For all those who like long, drawn out speeches by Draco, this is for you. And many, many points to all who review with constructive criticism… 

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Disclaimer: 

I own Draco AND Harry ::grins evilly:: MWAHAHA 

::wakes up::

Drat! JK's still in control of it all. 

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A Long December

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Honestly, she was sixteen years old. Was she supposed to be able to keep her cool when the most handsome boy she'd ever seen had just walked into the shop?

The cold blast of air he'd brought with him into the store passed over her and she shivered. As he stepped through the doorway, he looked up at her briefly. Something looked familiar in his silver eyes, but she wasn't sure what it was. She quickly looked down, trying not stare at this strange, enticing creature.

The Boy With The Silver Eyes smiled to himself and moved in between the rows of books. 

I've still got it. There's not a witch alive that could resist me. He chuckled softly. _Even Her._

He genuinely had had no idea that she would be there, much less work there. He had had no idea that he would ever see her outside the walls of Hogwarts. 

Much less in his favorite shop at Hogsmeade.

She looked up as soon as she felt Silver Eyes' gaze leave her and watched him maneuver expertly through the shelves. He walked with a catlike grace that tugged at her memory, but she couldn't remember who he reminded her of. _Who is he?_

He examined the shelf in front of him, lingering over the booking his hand for a few minutes before deciding, after all, to purchase it. It was the least he could do for the old boy.

He smirked to himself as he imagined Her expression when she realized who he was. He erased the sneer from his face as he came out from behind a row of staggeringly thick books; he didn't want to give the game away too early.

She had been daydreaming and didn't notice Silver Eyes lingering a few feet away from the counter.

She had taken this job the previous summer because she wanted to stay in the magical world for an entire year, for once. She wanted to leave behind all things Muggle for awhile. It was getting more and more difficult for her to stomach her parents' complaints that her magic was separating her from the family. 

It wasn't as if she was through forever with Muggles and never wanted to see another as long as she lived. She wasn't a _Malfoy_ for God's sake. She still loved the dear old determination of the Muggles and sharing quiet Muggle jokes with Harry, but she was tired of her parents and their awful judgmental comments about witches and wizards. It wasn't her fault that she was a witch. God, she just couldn't win. At school, people teased her for not being a pure-blood, as they called witches and wizards who were born into wizarding families. At home, her parents ragged on her for being a witch.

But she loved the wizarding world so much more than she had ever loved the Muggle world. 

She'd stayed at the Tipsy Scale, Hogsmeade's least expensive inn, that summer, and cherished every moment. Now, during the Christmas holidays, she stayed at Hogwarts. Her Transfiguration professor granted her a pass to work. She secretly thought that Professor McGonagall knew about her differences with her parents and was allowing her to make her own way this year. As a sixth year, she was surprised that McGonagall made such allowances for her. Usually those privileges were reserved for seventh years. She was _sure_ that McGonagall knew of her bank account at Gringotts, where she was saving up enough to be free of her parents forever. She wondered at McGonagall's letting that go without comment, but then McGonagall had always respected her privacy; maybe it wasn't so farfetched an idea after all. 

She loved her job; she'd loved it that summer, she loved it now. But she wanted to get back to Hogwarts. Tonight, she, Ginny, Parvati, and Lavendar were planning a girls night of popcorn and _Teen Witch Weekly_ surveys like, "Love Potion #9: How To Know If He Really Loves You." She and Gin had been talked into it by the other two; it wasn't really their thing, but they needed time away from Harry and Ron. Even _she_ admitted that.

At the same time, she was reluctant to leave. This _was_ her favorite shop in Hogsmeade. And they were getting the updated _Hogwarts: A History_ in soon. 

Silver Eyes' sudden appearance at the counter made her start. 

She looked up into Silver Eyes' face. He did look _so_ familiar. It irked her that she couldn't recall his name. 

They stood looking at each other for a few moments; she, trying to figure out his name and he, knowing full well who she was, relished the thought of the look on her face when she recognized him. 

She took the book in his hand from him with a slight smile. 

He never took his eyes off her. He was waiting for her to exclaim, "I know you!" 

She flushed under his attentive gaze.

She looked at the book she'd taken from him while she rang it up. 

__

Potions I Highly Doubt You Will Be Able To Complete by Severus Snape. 

She laughed softly. 

Silver Eyes narrowed them. "Find that amusing, do you, Granger? You would."

His eyes hadn't given him away, nor had his cat-like grace. But his voice and the smirk that accompanied his words definitely did.

"_Malfoy?! _" she gasped. She was so taken aback that she nearly dropped Snape's book.

"Careful, there, Granger," warned Malfoy, not unkindly. He reached out to take the book from her and she let him.

"But-- how?" she sputtered. 

Malfoy had been gone the entire first terms, to most everyone's relief, Pansy Parkinson and Snape's excepted. The Slytherins said he was in a student-exchange program in America, but everyone knows that you can't trust a word that comes out of a Slytherin's mouth. So, various stories flew around the castle, each more outrageous than the next, as to Malfoy's whereabouts.

Well, she certainly knew where he was now, didn't she?

"Oh, calm down, Granger. I realize that my return must have a tremendous impact on you, but do try to compose yourself, for decency's sake." His smirk deepened.

She straightened up. "Malfoy, don't be such a prick. Oh, hold on, you probably don't know _how_ to be normal," she snapped.

A slow grin spread across Malfoy's face. "Nice to know the old rivalry's still alive, Granger," he remarked, handing her the money for his book.

She took it. "Rivalry?! God, Malfoy, you have a gift for understatement."

Malfoy actually laughed. "That's not my only gift, Granger," he drawled.

Hermione blushed. _Is he flirting with me?_ she thought.

__

Am I flirting with her? he thought.

"I wouldn't call your blatant hatred of Harry and everything to do with him," she gestured to herself, "a _rivalry_." Her tone was harsh, but she came to the realization that he hadn't really said an unkind word to her yet.

Malfoy looked disgustedly at her. "Everything's always about Potter, isn't it?" he sighed dramatically. "I wasn't talking about Potter, if you can believe it. I don't care about Potter. But you—you and I have always had something, Granger. We've always been the best in our class. Always wanting to be better than best. We've shared that. That kind of ambition, Granger, is a bond. Our bond is our rivalry. And it has nothing to do with Potter. It's something all our own. And I'm flattered to be held up there with you."

For once in her life, Hermione Anne Granger had nothing to say. He was right, of course, but she had never really thought about it in that light. They _were_ considered the best by their classmates, but since Malfoy was THE BEST in Slytherin and Hermione was THE BEST in Gryffindor, they were never put together. But apparently, Malfoy no longer cared about their differences. He was actually attempting to be civil.

"Look, Granger, I learned a few things while I was away. Being away from my father," she noticed he no longer used the worshipful tone he normally reserved for his father, "I got to experience life for myself. I was _finally_ able to live without someone else's opinions being considered my own. I learned who the _real_ Draco Malfoy was." He paused.

Hermione looked at him oddly. Malfoy pouring his heart out to her was certainly not something she expected, although she had to admit it was nice to see him being human. 

Malfoy barged in on Hermione's thoughts. "Anyway, my point is, and I _do_ have a point," he smiled slightly, "that I learned a lot in America. First thing that comes to mind is that prejudice is a bitch. I'm not exactly used to being discriminated against…" Malfoy looked slightly put out.

Hermione stifled a giggle. However much he tried to act normal, he was still his old arrogant self underneath it. But now it seemed more like an endearing quirk than a vicious streak a mile wide.

"But in America, I was. And I know now what it feels like to be hated for something you can't change. Like where you're born or who your parents are. And get ready, here comes my point: I'm sorry."

Hermione's jaw dropped. She gave her head a little shake. _Did Draco Malfoy just apologize? To me?_

But, apparently, Malfoy wasn't through yet. "I'm sorry for all those times I called you a Mudblood and the time I made your teeth grow and the time…"

"OK, OK, Malfoy, I get the idea," she said, raising her hand. She gave him his change.

He accepted it and put the little bronze coins into his pocket. Hermione couldn't help but know how well cut his clothes were. Dark green corduroy with a light beige sweater and black overcoat. Even in Muggle clothes, Malfoy was impeccably dressed.

"What are you saying, Malfoy?" she asked, not unkindly. 

"I'm saying you're one of the smartest witches at Hogwarts and I was wrong to have judged you by your parents."

Hermione smiled at him, fully. She knew that people judged him by his father, including herself, so it was easier for her to say, "Apology accepted, Malfoy."

He winked at her. "The name's Draco..." he said. 

He turned and walked from the shop without another word.

Typical.

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It's been a Long December

And there's reason to believe

Maybe this year will be better than the last**-**Counting Crows


	2. Round Here

**A/N: **

**Many points to Cassie Claire, who started me writing this story in the first place. Love her stuff, can't wait for DV Chapter 11 (hint hint)

**Points to D for proofreading and pointing out my subtle plot-flaws. Read her stories: she writes as DracoDew17.

**THANKS TO: Hermione18, maxziod, DracoDew17 (always and several times), Sila-Chan, f0xyness39, Ashby, and heavengurl899. ::squeals:: I LOVE reviews

 A special loving hug goes to: maxziod, f0xyness39, and OF COURSE, DracoDew17, for their multiple reviews 

}}}You are reviewers I hold dear to my heart!{{{

**To all readers: enjoy! For all those who like interim chapters with exciting things to come, this one's for you! ::wink:: And many, many points to all who review with constructive criticism… 

**Disclaimer: **

HARRY'S MINE!!!  MINEMINEMINEMINEMINE!

::snaps out of daydream::

Dammit! I love you, JK, but I want Harry. And unfortunately, he still belongs to you. As do all characters in this story (excepting the soon-to-be important sister of Lavendar.) 

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**(Things are Changing) Round Here**

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_Round Here_

We're carving out our names 

_-Counting Crows_

Hermione walked home that night, whistling. It seemed impossible to her that Draco Malfoy had actually apologized to her, much less that he wanted to be friends. She laughed aloud at the thought that the two of them could be friends. Ron would never allow it and Harry would probably never speak to her again. That sobered her immediately. Ron and Harry. What would they say if she told them about this afternoon? 

She smiled. They would laugh and ask her if she'd been at McGonagall's rum. 

But who could she tell? She knew she couldn't keep all this to herself. GINNY. Gin would understand. Ginny had been in love with Harry as far back as Hermione could remember, and knew hopeless relationships when she saw them .She would understand perfectly. 

_Although I don't think of Malfoy like Ginny thinks of Harry,_ she thought. But he _was_ handsome. And charming. And intelligent. In fact, the only thing about him that Hermione could honestly say bothered her was the fact that he was a Slytherin. 

Hermione found herself at the bottom of the stairs leading to the front doors of the castle. She ascended them quickly and entered the castle in a cloud of snowflakes. She shut the door softly behind her.

Draco Malfoy, by sheer coincidence, was at the top of the steps leading up from the Great Hall. He saw her come in. 

The pure white of the snow contrasted with her honey-golden colored hair, which had been arranged into carefully controlled curls for several years. Her almond-shaped amber eyes glowed with the weather, which had also beat color into her cheeks. He had never seen her look more beautiful. __

_Wait- Am I thinking of Granger? Bucktoothed, bushy-haired Mudblood that she is?_ Then he realized that the only thing he could honestly say that bothered him about her was that she was a Gryffindor. 

Hermione shook the snow from her hair and struggled to take off her wrappings. She couldn't quite- get- the- coat- off. Suddenly, a strong hand gripped the back of her coat and helped her take it off. Then the hand reached around and unwound her scarf. 

Hermione turned to see Draco Malfoy hanging up her jacket and brushing the flakes of snow from her scarf. 

"Wha- Malfoy?" she spluttered.

"Hullo, Granger," he turned and smiled at her. 

Hermione, still red with cold, looked up at him and genuinely smiled.

Harry Potter, coming out of the Great Hall, saw Malfoy standing there, smirking at a very red-faced Hermione. 

"Oh- Draco," she said pleasantly surprised. "Thank you."

"Not at all a problem, Hermione," he replied. "Are you just off work now?"

"Yes," she replied faintly, wondering where her voice had gone.

Draco smiled kindly. _Kindly?_ he thought, _what the hell is wrong with me? I'm not kind! I'm handsome, charming, well-dressed, brilliant, and graceful… oh yes. But hardly ever **kind**._

"Coming to dinner then?" He reached out to trail a finger down her face, gently. He couldn't help himself; she looked so stunning, with the faint brush of red across her cheeks and her hair falling around her shoulders. 

_What on earth has come over me? _he thought.

_What on earth has come over him? _Then she realized that she didn't care why he was being so wonderful, but she was glad he was.

Harry Potter, coming out of the Great Hall, saw Draco Malfoy raise his hand to Hermione. 

And in a flash, he was across the room.

He grabbed Malfoy's outstretched hand, twisted it around Malfoy's back, and forced the silver-haired boy to his knees. 

"If you even think about touching her again, you filthy bastard, I'll rip your heart out through your nostrils and shove it back up your ass," he snarled. His voice contained such a level of animosity that Hermione was frightened.

Malfoy actually laughed.  "Potter," he said coolly, "Let go of my arm."

"Not until I think you understand that I'll beat you over the head with your own kidneys if you hurt Hermione," Harry growled.

"Harry, honestly," said Hermione exasperatedly. "He _wasn't _hurting me, he was--."

But Malfoy cut her off. "I'll tell you once more, Potter, to let go of my arm, and then you will see why no one fights with me." The threat was cold as ice.

Harry snorted. "You're not in any position to do anythi—argh!" 

The "argh" came from Malfoy twisting out of Harry's grasp and putting him in a headlock. 

"Draco!" exclaimed Hermione, surprised. She was actually quite glad he had turned the tables on Harry. Now maybe Harry would listen. 

"Potter," said Malfoy smoothly, "_You_ are an insufferable git. But on Hermione's behalf, we'll overlook it just this once. Mind your own business once in a while, Potter, and then maybe you won't get yourself in such trouble."

He released Harry.

Harry turned and attempted to head butt Draco, but Hermione's voice rang out clearly: "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Harry froze in the full body-bind.

"Harry, you nutter, listen to me," Hermione said, sighing. "Draco wasn't trying to hurt me."

"Draco--!" sputtered Harry indignantly. Since when were Hermione and Malfoy on a first-name basis?

Hermione explained the situation calmly as Malfoy looked on, smirking all the while. 

Harry so desperately wanted to wipe the smirk off his smarmy little rat-face.

Hermione so desperately wanted Harry to understand. She wanted them to get along. And she knew that he wasn't even trying. She could feel herself getting more hysterical by the moment. But she _would_ remain composed in front of Draco.

Draco so desperately wanted to give Potter a swift kick in the pants. What a git! He'd only touched her cheek for God's sake!

"—and although I appreciate that you protect me, Harry, you ought not to jump to conclusions. He was just helping me with my coat. Honestly,—" she said, growing more and more irritated. "Are you even listening?"

Harry glared at her. "All I saw, Hermione, was Malfoy reaching up to hit you."

"Oh, Harry—,"sighed Hermione. He was hopeless.

"He _doesn't _seem to be listening, Hermione," drawled Draco. His eyes danced at her. She smiled slightly at him. "Perhaps we should leave him like this while we go to dinner. Let him cool off, you know."

Hermione, as much as she wanted her best friend to at least make an effort to be civil, particularly because Draco was, replied laughingly, "I think that's a _wonderful_ idea, Draco." 

"After you," he said, graciously, sweeping his arm toward the door. 

He followed her into the Great Hall, leaving Harry to the mercy of the two Ravenclaws that just happened to be passing by on their way to dinner. Harry called to them, but they gave him strange looks and went quickly into the Hall. Well, what could he expect from second years. The only other people in the castle were Ron, Ginny, Lavandar Brown and her younger sister, and Parvati Patil. And he happened to know that Ron was out at Fred and George's joke shop. Lavendar's sister was already in the Great Hall, Harry knew, because he had just dropped of his Care of Magical Creatures notes for her. Lavendar and Parvati were in Hogsmeade, he remembered, so that left…

Virginia Elisabeth Weasley descended the stairs to the Great Hall gracefully. Her Muggle clothes told Harry that she had been out that day. She wore jeans and a light green sweater that framed her irritatingly perfect figure well. She _was_ stunningly beautiful. Harry, unable to move (or do anything else, really), took the time to appreciate the subtlety of the gold in her hair and the velvet darkness of her eyes. 

Gin had been trying to cure herself of the devastatingly handsome Gryffindor Seeker since the day she met him. She had been devastated in her third year when Harry had briefly dated Cho Chang and she had realized the she mustn't be his type if he liked girls like _that_. She wanted so much to be calm and composed, mature and sophisticated like Cho seemed to be. And try though she might, Harry knew her too well to be impressed by her and she knew it. She sighed out of disappointment in herself. She would never and could never be what he wanted.

Her heart jumped when she saw him lying on the ground apparently frozen. _Oh, Harry-_ she cried silently, _What's happened?_

She rushed down the stairs to his side.  "Why, Harry, what on earth--," she began.

He interrupted her. "Hermione's taken up Draco Malfoy as her new pity-project and I thought he was hitting her when in fact he was just trying to seduce her and she Body-Bound me because she was so embarrassed," Harry summarized. Gin's hands flew to her mouth in surprise. 

"_What?_" said Ginny, taken aback completely. Hermione-- Malfoy— hitting-- Harry Body Bound? _Malfoy_ _seducing her???_

Harry explained, at length, the situation and Ginny immediately felt pity for her best friend. Everyone knew Draco Malfoy was a difficult person to get along with, although he was the most handsome boy in the castle (after Harry, of course.) And that they were in rival Houses did not make Hermione's situation easier in the slightest. She didn't think for a moment that her best friend was involved in a pity project of any sort. Hermione was 17, after all.

Ginny realized that Harry was still motionless on the floor. She murmured the counter-curse and helped Harry to his feet. 

He noticed how slender and elegant her hands were. And how her silky golden-red hair fell into her deep eyes.

Harry had a hard time swallowing as he stood there, looking into Gin's eyes, his voice gone. 

Ginny looked back into the emerald green eyes she had adored for so long, scared by the intensity she saw there. His midnight bangs, sharply cut, casually brushed across his forehead. She opened her mouth to say something, but he put his hand over it.

He had no idea what had come over him. He'd always thought Ginny was beautiful, but ever since he'd dated Cho, she'd been remote towards him. At the time, he'd been glad she'd gotten over her school-girl crush. But over the last two years, it had come to bother him some that she was never even platonically affectionate towards him, as Hermione was. But he had never felt like _this_ about her. Perhaps it was the effects of the Body-Bind. Perhaps his mind was still numb with shock at Hermione's actions and he wasn't thinking, but he did it all the same.

He drew her to him, slowly, cautiously. His hand left her mouth and slid around her waist. 

And he kissed her.

Several things happened at once.

Hermione and Draco emerged from the Great Hall.

Ron, Parvati, and Lavendar came in, snow billowing around them.

"Harry!!"

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A/N:  okeyday, everybody, i know i kinda left it in an odd spot, but it's late and I have a chemistry test tomorrow L so I'll leave you with these tidbits to think about:

Who said "Harry!"? Was it Ginny, mad at him for kissing her? Was it Ron, who can't believe his eyes? Was it Hermione, slightly shocked and very pleased? Is it Lavendar, who was Harry's last girlfriend? (oops, let THAT slip. oh well. )

UP NEXT: Lavendar's sister gets some lines (yes, she becomes quite important), Draco kisses somebody (but not who you think), Parvati reveals something, and Hermione gets a letter.

Stay tuned for further developments!


	3. Daylight Fading

**A/N: **

**I've drastically changed Chapter 2 because I really didn't like it all that much so if this feels a little disjointed, that's why. (I think that the new Chapter 2 fits much better.)

**Many points to Cassie Claire, who started me writing this story in the first place. Love her stuff, can't wait for DV Chapter 11 (hint hint)

**Points to D for proofreading and pointing out my subtle plot-flaws and showing me the inconsistencies that I'd overlooked. Read her stories: she writes as **DracoDew17.**

**THANKS TO: Hermione18, maxziod, DracoDew17 (always and several times), Sila-Chan, f0xyness39, Ashby, and heavengurl899. ::squeals:: I LOVE reviews

 A special loving hug goes to: maxziod, f0xyness39, and OF COURSE, DracoDew17, for their multiple reviews 

**To all readers: enjoy!! This is probably the longest chapter I have ever written and it kinda sets up the plot. And many, many points to all who review with constructive criticism… 

**Disclaimer: **

Please don't sue me! I have no money! I cannot afford it! I acknowledge that all things Harry Potter belong to JK! (although I do admit to pouting about it…)

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Daylight Fading

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Daylight fading 

_Come and waste another year_

_All the anger and eloquence are bleeding into fear_

_When we see the early signs that daylight's fading_

_We leave just before it's gone_

_ -Counting Crows_

"Harry!!" Lavendar Brown's sister, emerging from behind Hermione and Draco, had been poking through his notes and wanted to ask him a question. She pushed Malfoy out of her way and looked up to see Harry kissing Gin Weasley.

Her jaw dropped. _Good for you, Gin!_ she cheered silently. A smile crept onto her face. Then she noticed the absolute shock on Ron's face, the uneasiness on her sister's and Parvati's face, and that she was standing behind Hermione who was holding Draco Malfoy's elbow in an attempt to steady herself. _Draco Malfoy?!?_ Since when was he back at the castle? And _what_ was he doing with Hermione?

Harry broke away from Gin at the sound of his name. Ginny clung to him as if she was dizzy and he held her up quite willingly. 

Then the world exploded.

"Harry!" screeched Hermione. "How wonderful—"

"Harry! What the bloody hell d'you think you're doing kis—," raged Ron.

"Harry! Congratulations, you two!" squealed Lavendar and Parvati at the same time. They smiled at each other.

"Whoa, whoa," Draco Malfoy held up a hand. "I think we all ought give Potter and Weasley a minute alone, don't you?"

Ron gave Malfoy a Suspicious Look and said gruffly, "Thanks, Malfoy," before striding up to Harry and grabbing him by the elbow.

Malfoy interceded. He pulled Ron off Harry and said scathingly, "I meant your sister, Weasley."

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically and dragged an indignant Ron off to the Great Hall. Hermione, Lavendar, Lavendar's sister, and Parvati followed them.

"What d'you think you're doing, Malfoy?" spat Ron.  "Trying to play hero? And what happened to your 'Daresn't touch a Weasley' rule?"

"Ron!" said Hermione in annoyance, "Draco was just trying to help. Be civil at the least."

"Why should I, Hermione? And why should you? Why should any of us? He's a _Slytherin_--," Ron began.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," said Draco smoothly. "Look, Weasley. I know we've not been the best of friends, but sometimes it takes… a little change of scenery for a person to see things differently"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Malfoy?" snapped Ron, his face beet red. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm saying that America's a hell of a different environment, Weasley. You aren't revered from birth for things you have yet to do. Your decisions aren't made _for _you, they're made _by_ you. You aren't always worried that you can't live up to people's expectations." Draco looked sullen at the thought that he was almost apologizing to a Weasley.

Ron was quiet for a moment. The whole bit about living up to people's expectations seemed to hit home. "So, you went away for a few months and now you're all sparkly-clean and sunshiny-nice?" he asked.

Draco looked horrified. "I don't do _sunshiny_—," he began, disdainfully. 

Hermione, biting back a laugh, said softly, "Draco, please. Ron, dear, come on. It's all for the best, please see that…"

Ron gave Malfoy a distrustful look. "Why should I trust him, Hermione?"

Hermione squared her shoulders and said, "Because I do."

Ron gave her a long, hard look. Then he looked at Malfoy. "You hurt her, you hurt my sister, you hurt Harry, and I'll kill you," he said.

Draco smiled. "I have absolutely no interest in your sister or Potter, Weasley. And as for Hermione, I have no intention do harming her. _Not_ that I think she needs _you_ to protect her, mind."

They measured each other with their eyes for a moment and then Ron let out a disbelieving snort. "Malfoy," he said, and stopped.

Hermione held her breath. She so hoped that these two would try, just try, to be nice to each other. 

"America must be one hell of a place," Ron said, and kind of smiled.

****************

Harry James Potter swallowed, glad for the first time in his life that he was able to do so. His throat had cleared just after Malfoy dragged Ron and the rest of them off to the Great Hall. Harry wouldn't ever really like Malfoy, but he was grateful for these few moments alone with Ginny.

"Harry," she breathed, her eyes bright. "Oh, Harry, please—."

He smiled, then, showing his straight, white, kind smile; the smile Ginny had longed to be directed towards her since the first day she'd met him, at King's Cross. 1 September, 1991 would be imprinted forever in her mind. 

"Ginny," he said, "I'm so sorry."

Her hopes, the hopes that he might have been earnest in his kiss, the hopes that finally, _finally_ Harry would notice her and love her the way she'd loved him for so long, came crashing down. She choked back words of anger, words of sorrow. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

He saw her beautiful dark velvet eyes fill with tears and knew she had misunderstood him. "Oh, Ginny—," he said, rushing a bit to get the words out, "I'm so sorry for taking so long to realize how beautiful you are, how smart you are, how much I need you… how much I need you with me, in my life. I-I've been a prat, and I'm sorry." He hung his head. 

Ginny was so startled by this confession the she actually jerked away from him.

Harry closed his eyes. _Well, you can't really expect her to still want to be with you after the way you've treated her for all these years, _he told himself. Still, it hurt that when he'd finally realized his feelings for her, she had moved on.

Ginny saw him close his lovely green eyes and knew that he had misunderstood her. "Oh, Harry," she breathed. She stepped closer to him and threw her arms around him, reveling in the closeness of it all. "Oh, Harry, I'm so glad."

He tightened his arms around her and lowered his head into her hair. She smelled like raspberries. He breathed in all of Ginny and wondered what the hell he'd been thinking the last six years.

Ginny nestled into Harry and breathed in _his_ scent. He smelled like soap and a little bit of wood, the scent of a Quidditch player. She sighed contentedly.

"Ahem."

Harry looked up from Ginny's hair and into the silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. 

"Can I release the hounds?" he drawled. 

Harry actually smiled. He looked down at Ginny, who smiled back at him, and they moved apart. He took her hand and then said to Malfoy, "Look, Malfoy. I think it's a lot to ask to be nice to you. But for Hermione…," he paused as she came out of the Great Hall and stood next to Draco.

Without realizing, she slipped her hand into his. 

Harry saw it and frowned, but said nothing about it. "For Hermione, I'll try."

"That's all she wants, Potter," said Malfoy seriously. "I'll be civil. But if you ask me, friendship _is _ pushing it a bit between us."

Harry grinned. "We'd never survive the holidays, much less the next year and half if we were friends, Malfoy."

Ron, his mouth full of biscuit, came out of the Great Hall and said, "Oy, you lot! Dumbledore's starting without you!"

And so they went in to dinner.

************

Ron and Harry had a "discussion" after dinner about Ginny, and Ron grudgingly admitted that if Ginny had to be with anyone, he would rather it be his best friend. Even though it pained him to see his baby sister all grown up.  

Hermione, happy that her three boys were finally getting along, invited Draco up to the Gryffindor Common Room that night. She, Gin, Lavendar, Lavendar's sister, and Parvati decided to postpone their girls' night and be with the boys tonight. Ginny was glad. More time to be with Harry, in her opinion. 

So, after dinner was finished, the eight of them trooped upstairs into the Common Room. Draco raised his eyebrows skeptically at the decorations. 

"I always suspected Godric Gryffindor had horrible taste," he said, pursing his lips. "This only proves me even more correct than usual."

Hermione playfully shoved him and giggled.

"No, honestly, Hermione," he said, looking about the room again. "Whoever thought gold and red make a good color combination was certifiable." He sniffed. 

Ron rolled his eyes and ignored him. _Malfoys, _he thought. _I'll never be rid of them._ He flopped into his favorite armchair by the fire.

The group settled in around him. Harry and Ginny were snuggled together in Harry's armchair, opposite her brother. Ron looked vaguely nauseas at the sight of them.

Hermione and Draco settled into the couch, with Lavendar and Parvati sprawled on the floor. Lavendar's sister excused herself and went upstairs to the girls' dormitory. 

They were all silent for a moment, and then, slowly, a grin spread across Hermione's face. 

"Harry?" she said, shifting slightly closer to Draco.

"Hmm?" he said, momentarily coming out of his Gin-induced euphoria.

"What do you think we'd be doing right now if we were Muggles?" 

"Starting a fire with sticks while wearing loincloths and breathing through our mouths?" suggested Draco brightly.

Harry shot him a dirty look. Then he smiled. "Spin the Bottle," he replied.

Hermione grinned and said, "Lav? Ti? Will you go fetch a glass bottle from the kitchens… yes… it's the pear…thanks."

***********

Anne Granger took a deep breath. "Paul?" she asked hesitantly.

Her husband turned slightly.

"What is it, Paul? News from Hermione?" The owl had arrived a few moments ago, bringing with it a single sheet of parchment.

Paul Granger thrust the letter at his wife. _No,_ he thought, _This can't be happening. Not now. She was just seeing how truly wrong all of that magic business is. We were just starting to get her to be a normal person. And now… now it's all been a waste._

Annie crumpled the paper in her hand and let out a shaky breath. "Oh, Paul…" She seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Damn it all, Annie! We should NEVER have let her go that school," he said, his anger erupting suddenly. He slammed his fist down on the table. 

Annie wanted to do the same, but she restrained herself. "They wouldn't take her from us, would they, Paul?"

"Of course they would! Didn't you read that letter? This is why she's not normal! This is why she's never been normal! When that damn letter from her school came, we should have sent it back! We SHOULD NOT HAVE LET HER GO!"

Annie Granger began to cry softly. 

"We were so stupid, Annie, to think that her going to that school would be harmless…" Paul's anger fizzled and her moved to take his wife into his arms.

They had tried for many years, after they were married, to have child. When they found that that wouldn't be possible, Paul and Annie Granger decided to adopt. 

And they'd always thought their beautiful baby girl, who had appeared ever so mysteriously at the orphanage, was a little odd. A little _different._

Their baby, Hermione Anne, was not, in truth their baby. 

The parchment in Annie Granger's hand fluttered to the floor.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger- 

It has come to our attention that you may be helpful to us in a case that has remained unsolved for nearly eighteen years. One of our most prominent wizarding families, the Spencers, had a baby exactly seventeen years and four months ago. Their daughter was kidnapped. We spent nearly a year searching for the child, but to no avail. It has come to our attention that Ms. Hermione A. Granger, currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, may be the child in question. We would be much obliged if you would please make  yourselves available for an official Ministry Inquest, to be held within the month. We will notify you of the location and  date of the Inquest approximately a week in advance.

With thanks, 

Pierce Oculin, Head of the Department of Unsolved and Utterly Hopeless Cases

****************

Lavendar and Parvati arrived back in the Common Room with the bottle and a mischievous look on their faces.

Hermione immediately seized the bottle from them and ordered them all onto the floor. Draco lowered himself carefully onto the carpet with a disdainful sneer at its condition. Hermione placed herself between Draco and Harry. Ginny sat on Harry's other side, Ron beside her. Parvati sat between Ron and Lavendar.

Hermione placed the bottle in the middle of the circle. She smiled as she pointed it directly at Ron. 

"Alright, Spin the Bottle is Muggle game teenagers play. All you do is spin the bottle," she demonstrated, "And you have to kiss whomever the points to when it stops." The bottle stopped, pointing right at Harry.

She laughed casually, and leaned over. Harry kissed her on the cheek swiftly. He blushed red and Ginny grinned at Hermione, and took Harry's hand. 

"Now, because we hadn't started yet, Harry didn't have to fully kiss me. But once we begin, none of that peck-on-the-cheek business," Hermione said briskly. "All right, who's going first?"

Nobody said anything. Draco looked at her skeptically and Parvati shot a quick look at Lavendar. 

Lavendar saw her and spoke up. "I'll go first." She seized the bottle and spun it.

Around and around it went.

Lavendar held her breath as the bottle began to slow.

The mouth of the bottle pointed at Ron.

Ron looked very uncomfortable. It was common knowledge that Lavendar had been Harry's girlfriend for most of the first term. Obviously, it really was over, because the both of them had moved on to other people, but Ron still felt a little awkward kissing his best friend's ex-girlfriend. It was a very brief kiss; their lips barely touched.

Draco sat there grinning like an idiot. "I think I could get to like this game," he quipped. "Especially if I get to see Weasley look as if he's got a reindeer up his butt."

"Sod off, Malfoy," growled Ron, turning his infamous shade of purpley-red.

"Draco, you're next," announced Hermione. 

Draco shook his white-blond bangs from his eyes and put his hand on the bottle. With a swift and graceful flick of his wrist he spun it.

Around and around it went.

Draco held his breath as the bottle began to slow.

The mouth of the bottle pointed at Ron.

Draco blanched. "No—," he said, disbelieving.

Hermione fell over on her side, laughing so hard so could scarcely breathe. Harry grinned in a very Malfoyish manner. Both Lavendar and Parvati looked highly amused.

Ron went from purple to green in a very alarming fashion. "Absolutely not!" he roared.

Hermione subsided into giggles. "Those are the rules, Ron…" she said and went into peals of further laughter at the look on both Draco and Ron's faces.

Draco looked positively nauseas as he said, "Let's just get this over with, Weasley."

Draco pushed aside Parvati and Lavendar and stuck his face in Ron's. It was highly doubtful that their lips even touched, but everyone else was laughing too hard to notice.

A very disgruntled looking Draco settled back into his spot and crossed his arms across his chest. He pouted as he said, "The things I do for you, Granger."

Hermione squeezed his arm in reply. The rest of the group, Ron notably excepted, composed themselves as Hermione spun the bottle. 

Around and around it went.

She didn't hold her breath, and it came to a stop pointing directly at Draco.

"Well," he said, matter-of-factly, "That's better."

Hermione turned pink. She leaned over and lifted her face to Draco's.

It wasn't her first kiss, but it was the first kiss where she ever felt anything like what she felt when Draco gently lowered his lips to hers. Fireworks didn't even begin to explain it. The power behind his gentle kiss was amazing and comforting at the same time. She kissed him back, and clung to him just as Ginny had to Harry in the Great Hall earlier. This was the perfect kiss. They broke apart at the sound of a discreet cough.

Ginny smiled slightly at her, but Ron's face was, if this is possible, even more horrified than when _he_ had to kiss Draco. But he said nothing. Hermione didn't notice that Ginny was digging her nails into Ron wrist to keep him from lurching across the room to kill Malfoy. Harry didn't look happy, but he didn't say anything either.

He picked up the bottle and spun it slowly. It landed on Parvati, who gave him an incredibly quick peck on the lips.

Ginny spun and got Harry, whom she gladly kissed.

Ron was next. He looked distrustfully at the bottle before spinning.

Around and around it went. 

Ron held his breath as the bottle began to slow.

And, luckily, it landed on Ginny. Hermione graciously granted them an exception to the no-cheek-kissing rule because as she put it, "That's just disgusting."

Parvati then hesitantly spun the glass bottle. 

It spun slower and slower and came to a halt pointing at Lavendar.

The two girls smiled at each other.

"I knew I liked this game," put in Draco, grinning evilly.

Lavendar and Parvati leaned in and kissed. And kissed.

And even Ginny's discreet cough didn't stop them.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Well," he said. He looked at a loss for words.

Harry's jaw hung open and Ron kept shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, as if he didn't believe what he was seeing.

Hermione finally shook them apart. "Guys," she said. "Come on."

They broke away from each other and looked sheepishly at the rest of the group.

"Wha—," sputtered Ron. "How—how--?"

"You are so blind, Ron," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell. Sorry, dears," she said to Lavendar and Parvati, sounding just like her mother, "But we _did_ know. And congratulations."

Parvati took Lavendar's hand. "We—we weren't planning on telling anyone…" she began.

Lavendar finished the thought. "Yet, anyway," she said. "We—well, you know how well everyone took Cho Chang's er- coming out." She looked a little hesitantly at Harry. 

Harry sighed heavily. _God,_ he thought, _Every girl I date seems to turn out to be a lesbian. I must be **a very **depressing date._

Ginny slipped her hand into his and smiled up at him. 

Then it hit him. He just had a thing for independent girls. Girls who went after what they wanted and didn't make excuses. Both Lavendar and Cho were like that, and Gin even more so. 

He smiled at Lavendar. "Congrats, Lav."

She sighed and nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Harry." 

Draco sat up, his eyes bright. "Can we play another round?" He looked eagerly at Lavendar and Parvati.

Lavendar rolled her eyes at him and looked at Hermione. "Actually, Hermione, I'm getting a little tired. I think I'm going to bed."

"All right, dear. I'll be up in a while. I'm tired of playing anyway," replied Hermione. She glanced meaningfully at the others.

Harry nodded and picked up the glass bottle. He threw it into the fire and helped Ginny to her feet. They resumed their snuggly position in Harry's armchair.

Ron snorted in disbelief once more at Lavendar and Parvati and said, "Well, I've got to owl Susan anyway." He went upstairs, muttering. Hermione only caught a few snippets of what he was saying (along the lines of …_Malfoy… perfectly outrageous… go brush my face…)_.

Lavendar dragged Parvati upstairs with a cheerful, "Goodnight, all."

When they were gone, Hermione smiled up at the stairs after them and said, "They need to talk about it. I don't think either one intended to come out tonight."

Ginny agreed. "It's nice to have everything out in the open," she said looking pointedly at Draco.

Hermione went pink again. She pulled herself up onto the couch next to Draco, who, as soon as was allowed, had gotten up off that filthy ragged _Gryffindor_ carpet. He caught the look and slid an arm around Hermione, almost protectively. She leaned against him, instinctively. 

All was still and they sank into a calm, comfortable silence.

The momentary peace was not to last.

An enormous owl banged at the window, demanding to be let in. Ginny jumped up off Harry's lap and let the great gray owl in. He snapped at her when she tried to take the letter from him. He flew over to Hermione, who had risen as well. He perched on the arm of the couch. Draco quickly moved his arm to avoid having it taken off. He got up from the couch and stretched his long legs. Harry, sensing something was wrong, got up from the armchair. Ginny went to stand next to him.

What they all knew but weren't saying was that any mail delivered so close to the holiday couldn't be good mail.

Hermione took the letter from the huge bird successfully, and then petted his head for a moment. He allowed her. Then, in a flutter of feathers, he went back out of the window in the direction of the Owlery. 

Hermione looked at the single sheet of parchment in her hand. She didn't recognize the handwriting. _I do hope everything's all right at home_, she thought fleetingly. _Oh, dear. Perhaps I've been a little harsh on Mum and Dad. Oh, what if something's happened to them? I should have gone home for Christmas!_

She ripped open the letter, which had been simply folded in half and wax-sealed closed. 

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_I know that this will seem a very odd thing to read, but I'm afraid you have to be told. My name is Pierce Oculin, and I am the Head of the Department of Unsolved and Utterly Hopeless Cases. We took on a kidnapping case about seventeen years ago that involved the four-month-old daughter of one of the wizarding world's most prominent families: the Spencers. Their child was mysteriously and seemingly untraceably taken from them. We were anonymously tipped off that you may have a connection with this case, and after considerable backtracking, it is highly possible that you, Ms. Granger, are the child abducted from the Spencers seventeen years ago. I apologize to you for having to deliver this information to you in such a manner. Ms. Granger, I know that this comes as a great shock to you, but we here at the Ministry need your help to determine if you are, indeed, the Spencers' daughter. If you can be present at our Official Inquest, January 3rd, we shall be able to sort out this properly. I have written to Mr. and Mrs. Granger and your Headmaster concerning this. Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Granger, and again, I apologize._

Sincerely, Pierce Oculin, Head of the Department of Unsolved and Utterly Hopeless Cases.

The letter fluttered from her hand.

"Hermione!" 

And Draco caught her as she fell.

*************************

**A/N :               **

Whew! Done! Finally! Sorry this took me so long to get out, but there was a lot of plot development going on in this chapter and I wanted to get it right. 

And I would like to say that the bits of Counting Crows ARE relevant to the story. "A Long December" described the hope of a better year because of the new and improved Draco. "Round Here" was a short quote, but I thought the chapter was somewhat setting up _this_ chapter, and therefore, I am carving out my name. As well as Draco, who's carving out his new name; his new self. "Daylight Fading" is talking about Hermione's parents, who wasted all their time with her fighting her and trying to change her and though they want her to ("come and waste another year") and it talks about them realizing they've lost her ("all the anger and eloquence bleeds into fear"). I think the last line's talking about her "day" with the Grangers ending and her new day with the her real parents beginning ("when we see the early signs that daylight's fading…")

Sorry this chapter is so long, but I couldn't finish it somehow; it kept growing. And I would like to warn everybody that my senior paper is due in less than two weeks, so chapter 4 might take a while; hopefully I can work on it this weekend… but we'll see. And for future reference, I'm taking 9 credit hours worth of college classes in the spring, in addition to high school,  so if I don't wrap this story up before then, be warned that I will have NO writing time. But I promise to try.

Hope ya'll liked it! Review! PLEASE!

**UP NEXT**: Someone dies, we play "Meet the Parents," we find out what Lavendar's sister's name is (finally! And I'll read and review all of the stories of the person who guesses it. D- you don't count since you already know.), we get to meet Hermione's sibs, and we unravel a bit of the mystery surrounding her kidnapping!

STAY TUNED FOR FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS!


	4. Anna Begins: Part 1

**A/N: **

**Many points to Cassie Claire, who started me writing this story in the first place. Love her stuff!!! Thank you, Cassie, for getting DV 11 to us so quickly! You just made my month!

**Points to D for proofreading and pointing out my subtle plot-flaws and showing me the inconsistencies that I'd overlooked. Read her stories: she writes as **DracoDew17.**

**THANKS TO: Hermione18, maxziod, **DracoDew17 **(always and several times), Sila-Chan, f0xyness39, Ashby, and heavengurl899. ::squeals:: I LOVE reviews

 A special loving hug goes to: maxziod, f0xyness39, and OF COURSE, **DracoDew17**, for their multiple reviews 

**To all readers: enjoy!! This is the chapter of reaffirmation and the calm before the storm. We also get into Draco's head (hehehehe) Many points to all who review with constructive criticism… (hint hint wink wink nudge nudge) 

****************

Anna Begins:   Part 1

****************

_Wrap her up in a package of lies…_

_Because if you don't want to talk about it_

_Then it isn't love_

_And I guess I'm going to live with that_

_But I'm sure there's _

_Something in a shade of grey,_

_Or something in between_

_And I can always change my name,_

_If that's what you mean…_

_-Counting Crows_

_**************_

The letter fluttered from her hand.

"Hermione!"

And Draco caught her as she fell.

************

Hermione woke up ten minutes later to a very worried crowd (Ginny, Harry, and Draco) hovering over her.

"Hermione?" Harry waved a hand in front of her face. "Can you hear me, Hermione?" He was practically shouting.

"She fainted, you prat," said a cold voice scathingly, "It's not like she lost her hearing along with her consciousness." 

Hermione smiled. Only Draco. She struggled to sit up; Draco grabbed her elbow and forced her to stand.

"Helps the blood to circulate," he said, inventing on the spot. He really was quite worried her; Hermione wasn't a girl that often fainted.

The letter remained on the floor. Ginny picked it up while the boys fussed over Hermione. She folded it without reading it and waited.

Finally the two boys, declaring her fine but in need of a bit more dinner, pushed her onto the couch. Harry turned his attention back to his red-haired girlfriend (although he wasn't quite used to thinking of her as such.) That was when he saw the parchment in her hand and fell silent.

Draco perched neatly next to Hermione, who, having remembered why she fainted, was looking pale again. She slouched back into the cushions. Draco leaned a bit farther back as well, much as he hated his skin to touch anything Gryffindor. 

Ginny, elbowed by Harry, took a step forward and handed Hermione the parchment in her hand.

Hermione refused to take it. Draco silently accepted the letter and looked the question at Hermione. She nodded.

Draco unfolded the parchment and began to read.

_"Dear Ms. Granger,_

_I know that this will seem a very odd thing to read,_" Draco paused, reading ahead silently, and then raised his eyebrows. He resumed his diction. "_But I'm afraid you have to be told. My name is Pierce Oculin, and I am the Head of the Department of Unsolved and Utterly Hopeless Cases. We took on a kidnapping case about seventeen years ago that involved the four-month  daughter of one of the wizarding world's most prominent families: the Spencers. Their child was mysteriously and seemingly untraceably taken from them. We were anonymously tipped off that you may have a connection with this case, and after considerable backtracking, it is highly possible that you, Ms. Granger, are the child abducted from the Spencers seventeen years ago. I apologize to you for having to deliver this information in such a manner. Ms. Granger, I know that this comes as a great shock to you, but we here at the Ministry need your help to determine if you are, indeed, the Spencers' daughter. If you can be present at our Official Inquest, January 3rd, we shall be able to sort this out  properly. I have written to Mr. and Mrs. Granger and your Headmaster concerning this. Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Granger, and again, I apologize._

Sincerely, Pierce Oculin, Head of the Department of Unsolved and Utterly Hopeless Cases."

The room was dead silent. Even the snow beating gently at the window seemed, to Hermione, to be lost in the pounding of her heart. How can this be? I'm adopted? I'm—I'm a pureblood? I'm NOT Hermione Anne Granger?

Draco saw the tears begin to form in Hermione's amber-coloured eyes and he leaned across the hated couch to take her into his arms. Harry didn't even flinch. Ginny sank slowly to the floor, sitting with her legs crossed. She rubbed her forehead in a tired fashion. 

"What does this mean, Hermione?" she asked.

Hermione lifted her head off of Draco's very muscular shoulder. "I really don't know, Gin."

************

Christmas came and went that year, much more quickly than any of them expected. Draco, having spent countless hours consoling Hermione, now felt that it was his responsibility to look after her, a sentiment that sent Ron into spasms of rage every time he thought about it. 

Harry, for the most part, recognized that Draco wanted to help Hermione, that he _needed_ to help her. And Harry was right. Draco had never helped another living thing in life. He had never felt this protective concern for anything ever, not even his mother. Although that wasn't a surprise to anyone who knew the snivelling, simpering wretch. 

Draco Lucius Malfoy was changing. He knew he was changing the day he arrived in America. When he fought their prejudices and overcome them, winning the American wizards approval, he knew it. When he realised that his opinions were actually in his father's words, he knew he was changing. When the Americans forced him to have his own thoughts, he knew it. When he looked at Muggles and did not feel repulsed by them, he knew it. When he came to realise that he hated never really made his own decisions while he had been at home, he knew he was changing. When he saw how much freedom he lost by coming back to Britain, he knew it. And when he saw the Hermione that day in shop, he knew that he would never be the same.

For instead of being annoyed by her, he was charmed. He wanted to be around her. He wanted her to want to be around him. That was what drove him to approach her in the Great Hall that night, what made him accept her dinner invitation, and what drove him to even set foot in the Gryffindor Tower. After seeing the sheer need for comfort on her face the night she received the letter, Draco knew that not only was he forever changed, he was happy about it. _Happy about it._ What Malfoy was ever happy? Draco genuinely _wanted_ to help her, be with her. And Harry saw this.

Harry James, The Boy Who Lived, knew the need to help and in turn be helped for it, because he had felt that _every day_ of his life for the Weasleys. He _so_ desperately wanted to help them. But he had always restrained himself for the sake of their pride, which, as he knew quite well, was important to them. The knowledge that he and Draco were in a relatively similar predicament made Harry be able to relate much more to him.

Harry also saw something in Draco that not even Draco had acknowledged. Hermione saw it too, and saved the thought for her mental review of the day, but said nothing. Harry, unfortunately, was none so prudent.

"You love her." His tone was unaccusatory, but the words themselves told Draco that Harry spoke with a finality that came from absolute knowledge. And though Draco had not addressed this growing problem, he saw that Harry had, and wanted to deal with it _now._

Lavendar and Parvati, who had been snuggled on the couch that Draco so despised, quietly slipped off, leaving the boys the entire Common Room to hash it out. 

Draco stood. He had been waiting for Hermione to come down for lunch. Harry had walked in to find the Slytherin lounging lazily in _his_ favourite armchair and though he'd been very good about tolerating Draco in the Common Room, the sight that met his eyes was enough to incite Harry to settle this matter _right now._

Draco did not respond to Harry's statement.

Harry nodded, knowingly. "I knew it. You _do_ love her. You love my Hermione."

That made Draco sit up, suddenly. It still surprised Harry how gracefully Draco moved. In a flash, the blond boy was on his feet, glaring at Harry.

"_Your_ Hermione?" Draco spat. "A bit selfish, aren't you, Potter? No one else can even look at any of _your_ friends, Hermione, that little Weasley girl, even, and not that I'd want to, Weasley's brother, what's-his-name."

"Ron," growled Harry.

"Whatever," Draco said flippantly. "What I'm saying, Potter, is that you have no right to call her 'yours' and furthermore, you've no right to tell me how I feel about her."

Harry took a few deep, calming breaths. He promised Hermione that he would not fight with Draco, and he intended to keep that promise. "She's _my_ best friend, Malfoy," he said, "And I love her as such. I don't want to see her hurt. That's all I meant."

Draco looked distrustfully at the raven-haired boy. 

"And as to your feelings or intentions towards Hermione, Malfoy," Harry paused, unsure. "I—I want you to know that I believed you when you said that you would never hurt her—."

Draco interrupted. "I _won't_." He looked irritated.

"I _know_," Harry snapped. "I believed you then, when it only pertained to friendship. And--."

Draco interrupted again. "I won't hurt her under any circumstances, Potter, why can't you understand that?"

"_Why can't you let me finish my sentence, you insufferable prick?"_ Harry glowered at Draco.

Draco sneered back at him, the look that Harry, Hermione, and Ron had dubbed the "Signature Malfoy Look." Hermione, before their friendship, had told Draco more than once that his face would freeze that way if he wasn't careful.

"What I have been _trying_ to say," Harry said, trying very hard to breathe deeply, "Is that regardless of your relationship with Hermione, I believe that you will take care of her, that you will never hurt her." He slowly extended his hand.

Draco looked perfectly shocked. After a few moments, he shook Harry's outstretched hand. "Thanks, Potter. It means a lot to Hermione." The unspoken agreement between the two was sealed. They would try to be friends, for their mutual care for Hermione was great enough to overcome the enmity between them. Forever.

Hermione came down the stairs to find Harry and Draco talking Quidditch in the middle of the Common Room. And she smiled for the first time in days.

************

New Year's Eve arrived and saw the Gryffindor Three with their respective dates of choice at Hogsmeade's Three Broomsticks. Harry and Ginny sat by themselves, sipping Butterbeer and giggling madly. Ron and his girlfriend of the week, Hannah, a Hufflepuff (most of Ron's girlfriends were Hufflepuffs; Draco remarked once that that was because the Hufflepuff girls were too stupid to realise just _who_ they were dating, which earned him a few swinging fists,) were snogging in the corner, their bottles of Butterbeer long forgotten. Hermione and Draco finished their drinks, and now warm, went for a walk.

It was snowing lightly. There was an inch already down, and it crunched merrily under their boots. Draco, feeling, for the first time in life, truly content, reached over and took Hermione's hand. She smiled, but said nothing.

They walked down the street, hand in hand. There was a small, scenic walkway close to the end of Hogsmeade Drive, and Hermione and Draco turned onto it. Had it been daytime, the lane would have been shaded, for the trees hung over the two as they walked. Snow covered the treetops, Hermione noticed as she looked up. They came across a bench and Draco gallantly brushed the snow off of it so Hermione could sit down. She was touched. Draco was pampering her unlike anyone ever had before. No one, especially not Harry and Ron, had ever treated her as if she was this precious thing, something to cherish and treasure. 

She sat on the bench and Draco slid in beside her. She sighed.

"What?" he whispered.

"I was just thinking…" she said, leaning into him.

He put his arm around her, resting it on the back of the bench.

"I was just thinking… about my family…," she said, hesitantly. She wasn't in the habit of pouring out her heart to people, but there was something about Draco that made her want to tell him everything.

"Which family?" he asked, quietly. "The Muggle parents you grew up with, or your real, pureblood parents?"

"Both," she admitted. "I've been thinking about Mum and Dad, the Grangers… about how they're feeling… I haven't talked to them since I got that letter. I don't know if they're even coming to the Inquest… that's only three days away, you know."

"Aren't you even the least bit upset with them about all of this, Hermione?" he said, looking at her strangely. "They never told you that you were adopted, after all."

"I don't blame them for what happened to me, if that's what you mean, Draco. But I am quite angry with them for not telling me that I was adopted. And for resenting my wizarding heritage. And for trying to make me, as they put it, 'Stop being a witch.'"

"Idiot Muggles," muttered Draco. 

"They tried to make me hate the fact that I'm a witch. I don't think they realised that it was only pushing me more towards all things wizard, but they made me resent them. And they made me ashamed of them, for the way that they behave. I'd like to think that I can rely on them for support in this, but knowing them, and the fact that they hate the wizarding world, I know that it would be like hitting a brick wall. It would be nice to have parents who would be there for me at the Inquest, when I have to meet my birth parents, but I—I just think that I've always wanted caring and understanding parents. And I don't have them."

"You may, Hermione. For all you know, the Spencers might be exactly the parents you've always dreamed of. Although I doubt it," said Draco frankly.

"Why?" she said, looking at him suddenly. "Do you know them?"

"My parents are friends with them," he said slowly, "But not close friends. Mr. Spencer is very important in wizarding social circles… your family is the only one older than the Malfoys. Your grandfather was Minister of Magic before Fudge, and a damn good one at that, I hear. Your father wasn't old enough at the time of his father's death to take on the role of Minister of Magic, and Dumbledore declined it, so Fudge got the job. You father is set to be Minister after Fudge dies, which, with any luck, will be soon. Your parents weren't ever closer with mine than was socially necessary because your mum was the best of friends with Lily Evans, who my father despised." 

Draco paused. "Do you know who Lily Evans was?"

Hermione shook her head. 

"Potter's mother. Your mum and his were inseparable, I hear. That's because they grew up together; your mum's Muggle-born. My father has never much liked her either, because of that. But _your father's _family, like I said, is the very oldest of wizarding families, and so it wouldn't be prudent of my father to appear… less than fond of either of your parents. Your father is the only son in the family, you know, he has five sisters. In fact, your family lost your father's youngest sister to the Muggles a decade or two ago, her name was Diana. She was a Muggle princess."

He paused for breath. "Did you want to know more?" he asked. He only knew what was common knowledge, but he would tell her everything he'd ever heard about the Spencers if she so desired.

"Oh, yes, Draco, please!" she cried. Hermione hadn't thought she wanted to know, but now that he'd given her a taste of her family, she couldn't get enough.

He leaned over, and quite suddenly kissed her. It was a swift kiss, with his lips barely brushing hers, but she felt it. 

"Then let's go back to Hogwarts," he said. "It's cold out here."

************

Hermione, for the first time in her life, flopped on a couch in the Slytherin Common Room. Draco, remembering that he was the only Slytherin who'd stayed for the holidays, had invited Hermione to celebrate the New Year with him there. Since Ginny and Harry were relishing in the last few days they had alone before Quidditch season and term started up and Ron and his Hannah were 'otherwise occupied', as Ginny put it, Hermione saw no reason to stay in Gryffindor Tower that night. 

She settled (or tried to) into the Slytherin couch, which was black velvet and quite rigid. Draco lounged gracefully in an armchair by the fire. He'd poured them both Butterbeers that he'd smuggled out of Hogsmeade, and he held his lightly with two fingers, his wrist curved daintily. Hermione sipped hers in silence, waiting for Draco to continue with his story.

Draco looked up into her eyes and smiled at her encouragingly. She gave him a weak one of her own.

_My grandfather was Minister of Magic, my father's set to be the next Minister? My mother and Harry's were best friends? My mother was muggle-born?_ These thoughts ran through Hermione's head as she waited.

Draco sensed that Hermione was anxious to learn more of her family, so he cleared his throat and continued.

"Your father's name is Charles. Charles Spencer. As I've said, he's poised to become Minister of Magic when Fudge kicks the bucket. Your mother's name is Rebecca. She was born a Muggle and raised in Surrey with Lily Evans, her childhood friend. They were both accepted into Hogwarts, where your parents met. Mind, love, that this is common knowledge in the wizarding community; your parents are quite high-profile, not… unlike my own." His lips twisted into a smirk, the Signature Malfoy Look, just toned down a bit. "They've got… an older daughter called Della, she graduated last year from Beauxbatons. I'm really not sure why she didn't go to Hogwarts, actually… Then they've got two younger girls. The only one I know is Izzy, because she's friends with my sister."

"Your sister?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Yes, my younger sister, Calabria (A/N: Don't hate me!!! I know Draco's a classic only-child, but I couldn't resist! It's pronounced Cuh-law-bree-uh, BTW.) She's 10, as is the little Spencer girl. Then there's another younger girl, but I don't really know much other than that," finished Draco. He took a sip of his Butterbeer.

Hermione sat, deep in thought, and Draco didn't say anything, respecting her need to sort it all out.

Suddenly, bells rang out all over the castle. The deep, rich sound of the heavy bells and the light, airy sound of the smaller bells blended beautifully as "Auld Lange Sine" played throughout the castle. 

Hermione rose from her seat, smiling. "Happy New Year, Draco," she said.

Draco rose as well, and smiled at her. "Happy New Year, Hermione."

He took her into his arms, and she went willingly. 

He held her as she lay her head on his shoulder. It was oddly comforting just to be relaxed and comfortable in his arms.

She sighed contentedly, and hardly noticed when the two of them moved to the couch to cuddle their way into the New Year.

************

Hermione woke up the next morning, 1 January 1997, in someone else's bed. When she'd opened her eyes, the familiar red-gold drapes of her bed were nowhere to be seen. Instead, silver velvet drapes were pulled close around the bed, blocking out any sunlight. She could still see enough, however, to notice two very important things: that there was a green velvet dragon emblazoned on the drapes and that she was not alone in this strange bed.

Draco stirred beside her but didn't wake up. Then she remembered what had happened last night. She and Draco had been snuggling happily on the couch when she'd turned her face up to his and said, to his great surprise, "Draco, have you always been this wonderful? Even when you were a child, under all of that fear and hate, were you this sweet?"

Draco, in a typical fashion, had snorted. "Sweet? _Me?_ Dear God, girl. What do you take me for? A good person?"

She'd smiled indulgently and waited for him to give her a straight answer. 

"I've never in my life been _wonderful_. Although," he said, lifting his delicate nose, "I'm am not surprised in the slightest that you think so."

Hermione's lips twitched as she tried not to laugh at his silliness. 

"But," he said, tapping her nose gently with one, long white finger, "Don't spread it around. I have a reputation to uphold."

"Oh, do you?" she said. She smirked at him, her eyes dancing. "What reputation might that be, Master Malfoy?"

"Ah, you know, dear… the whole seriously-evil-wizard thing… it's so me," he said, puffing out his chest with self-importance.

She laughed outright and poked him in the stomach. 

He looked slightly wounded. "What?" he said, "Don't I look evil to you?"

Hermione laughed again, but more gently. She leaned up and kissed him softly.

He didn't let it go at one sweet kiss, but extended it. He slid a hand around the nape of her neck and caressed her jaw line with his thumb. Hermione, sitting on his lap, twisted so that she could slip her hands around his waist and pull them even closer to each other. The loving tenderness of his kiss ended after a few moments, and left Hermione breathless. She snuggled into the crook of his arm and lay her head on his chest. She twisted so that her legs fell across his lap. She-would-just-rest-like-this… she yawned. Just-rest-for-a-moment… 

Draco realised that Hermione had drifted off into a peaceful and content sleep after a few minutes. He smiled to himself as he carried her to his bed and gently lay her down. He slid in beside her without undressing and pulled the covers over them both. He held her close to him, thinking, _I'll never let her go… as long as she needs me, I'll be here for her._

**A/N:**

Ok, ok, I know I promised a death and Hermione's parents and sibs, and Lavendar's sister's name, and some plot unravelling… BUT I went back and read Chap 1 and realised that I started this fic as a Hermione/Draco and I was deviating a bit from the original idea. Now, I know that the drama factor is going to come in and stay for a while VERY SOON, but I wanted to get in a little more peace and love. Ergo, this: the beginning. What I'm planning is a three part chapter  (1 January, 2 January, and then the climax, 3 January, when she meets her parents.)

Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated… if you think I need to play up something a little more or if you think somebody's OOC… just let me know.

**Also: I really like the title "Anna Begins" (you'll find out more about it later, just trust me, it's the perfect title.) And because we're already out of December and into January in the story, I'm thinking the title "A Long December" may not be working anymore. It would still remain the title of the first chapter, granted, but I don't think it fits for the overall story. ANYWAY, I'm thinking on changing the title of the story to "Anna Begins." Let me know what you think; if that would be too confusing and you'd never find the story again if I changed the title, or if ya'll all wouldn't mind too much.

THANKS SO MUCH TO EVERYBODY THAT'S REVIEWED FOR ME!!!!!! **I LOVE YOU!!!**


	5. Anna Begins: Part 2

**A/N: **

***Points to D for being patient with me and my random ramblings and my pseudo-pneumonia (_I'm fine!)_. Read her stories: she writes as **DracoDew17.******

**Special thanks to **helly120** for pointing out my subtle plot-flaws and showing me the inconsistencies that I'd overlooked. ::tears up::  My ever-faithful date-watcher! Thanks, helly! (PS- hope you don't mind that I stole your name…)****

**THANKS TO: Hermione18, maxziod, **DracoDew17 **(always and several times), Sila-Chan, f0xyness39, Ashby, heavengurl899, Jen Drake, Lulu 81, MythzNFantasyZ17, Emma, sakura1287, **helly120**, CrystallineLily, and ?charmed_pixies?. ::squeals again:: I LOVE reviews

*A special loving hug goes to: maxziod, f0xyness39, heavengurl899, 

Lulu81, sakura1287 and OF COURSE, **DracoDew17**, for their multiple reviews*

***Many points to all who review with constructive criticism… (hint hint wink wink nudge nudge)***

**Disclaimer**: Everything here belongs to J.K Rowling, Warner Bros, and all those other people who would consider suing poor penniless me. Thanks to the Counting Crows for the use of their lyrics and to Maya for the use of the "sweet caffeineated lover" line and the cuddling of coffee line. 

****************

Anna Begins:   Part 2

****************

_Wrap her up in a package of lies…___

_Because if you don't want to talk about it___

_Then it isn't love___

_And I guess I'm gonna have to live with that___

_But I'm sure there's ___

_Something in a shade of grey,___

_Or something in between___

_And I can always change my name,___

_If that's what you mean…___

_-Counting Crows___

_**************___

Hermione woke up the next morning, 1 January 1997, in someone else's bed. When she'd opened her eyes, the familiar red-gold drapes of her bed were nowhere to be seen. Instead, silver velvet drapes were pulled close around the bed, blocking out any sunlight. She could still see enough, however, to notice two very important things: that there was a green velvet dragon emblazoned on the drapes and that she was not alone in this strange bed.

Draco stirred beside her but didn't wake up.

She lay motionless on the bed for a few seconds. She had just spent the night in the bed of Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who, less than two weeks ago, was her mortal enemy. Draco Malfoy, who had been taking care of her, who had kissed her so tenderly, who had tucked her into bed so gently and held her through the night. The only person she could honestly say now that she could turn to for anything. How strange life was. It threw her such curve-balls; Draco being most definitely the least of them. 

Her parents. She thought perhaps that she ought to owl them, but no… she wouldn't. They wouldn't—couldn't help her now. She owed it to them to owl them and let them know what was going on, but honestly, it more that _they_ owed it to _her_. They should be the ones that contacted her. Anyway, the Inquest was tomorrow. She would be moving on from her Muggle upbringing and into the arms of her true family. The family that, she hoped, would accept her for her, regardless. That wasn't too much to ask for, was it? _Was it, Mum? Was it, Dad? You could never do it. You could never do such a simple thing as just accept me. _

Hermione sighed. Draco, in his sleep, drew her closer. She willingly snuggled into his arms. This was so pleasant. Just the two of them, here like this. It really was a pity they had to get up at all. But she had decided that it would be best if she left for London today and spent the night there, as the Inquest was at eight in the morning the next day. Thinking of time, Hermione raised herself on her elbows and looked for Draco's clock. An antique miniature grandfather clock, maybe about a foot high, stood on his mahogany nightstand. It read ten A.M. 

Draco, aroused by Hermione's leaving the circle of his arms, slid an arm around her waist and put his chin on her shoulder. She smiled and fell back onto the bed, with Draco hovering over her, now supported lazily by his own elbow. 

"Good morning," he said quietly.

"Good morning, Draco," she replied. And then she laughed.

"What?"

"I was just thinking… what would my mother say if she knew I spent the night in Draco Malfoy's bed?" Her eyes twinkled.

"She'd say, 'Well done, Hermione! Not only is he handsome, charming, well-bred, smart and perfect in every possible way, he's rich! Good job!'" replied Draco, without blinking.

Hermione laughed gaily. 

Draco smiled at her, reveling in the happy and content look on her face. He knew that tomorrow would be the beginning of a very difficult period for her. And he was glad that he could make her smile now.

He got up gracefully, and stood next the bed. Hermione couldn't help but notice that every hair on his head was perfectly in place and that there was not a single wrinkle in his clothes, despite the fact that's he'd slept in them. 

"Come on, then," he said, "Let's get to breakfast. I'm three hours late for my first pot of coffee."

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was a well known fact around the castle that Draco Malfoy's true love was caffeine, as had been displayed that day last year when Pansy Parkinson had tried to come between Draco and his first cup of the day. Pansy had spent an unfortunate six months as a three-eyed purple fish before Madam Pomfrey thought it was safe to try a counter-curse. 

She attempted to straighten her hair and clothes as they made their way upstairs to the Great Hall. It was deserted, which Hermione thought was a blessing. She really didn't want to face Ron's taunts or Harry's disappointed face this early in the morning. Draco made a beeline for the Slytherin table, where a steaming pot of black coffee waited for him. He poured it into a mug the size of a large soup bowl and took a deep swig. 

"Ahh, my sweet caffeineated lover," he breathed. "Oh, how I missed you. Oh, how I adore you. Oh, my one true love! Caffeine, caffeine, wherefore art thou, caffeine?" His almost-incoherent mutterings drew Hermione to the table she so abhorred. 

When she heard him whispering poetry to his coffee cup, however, she decided that it might just be safer to have her meal at the Gryffindor table. 

When he was halfway through his third pot of coffee, Draco managed to tear himself away from his life-giving liquid and notice that Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet by herself at the Gryffindor table. He filled his gargantuan coffee cup to the very top and cuddled it to him as he crossed the floor. 

Hermione looked up from the paper as Draco elegantly draped himself over the chair next to her.

He smiled dashingly at her.

"What is it?" she said patiently.

"Well," he said slowly, taking a long drink from his precious mug. "I was thinking… that you may not want to travel all the way to London by yourself…"

Hermione looked surprised at his offer. "Would you really go with me?" she asked.

All seriousness now, Draco nodded. "Of course, Hermione."

Then he inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of his coffee. "After," he said, "I finish my coffee."

"Oh, yes," said Hermione rolling her eyes again, "_I_ need to sort _my_ priorities." She shook her head at Draco, sadly. He didn't notice her, as he was stroking his coffee cup with loving tenderness.

************

She trooped back up to Gryffindor Tower and found it thankfully empty. A quick look out the window told her that the other Gryffindors were outside, having a very involved snowball fight. 

She packed swiftly, including everything she thought she might need for the next two days. It didn't take her long. She carted her small trunk down the tower stairs and into the entryway of the Great Hall. Draco's things were already there, a house-elf standing obediently next to them.

Hermione frowned and walked over the elf. "Hello," she said pleasantly.

The house-elf, unlike most of its peers, did not shrink away from her. "Hello, Miss," it said.

Hermione, unsure of what to do, said, "Oh, please, call me Hermione."

"Yes, Miss Hermione," replied the elf. 

"What's your name?" asked Hermione after a short pause. "Are you a Hogwarts elf?"

"Helly is my name, Miss," said the elf. "And Helly is no longer a Hogwarts elf. Helly has been working for Master Malfoy for almost a year, Miss. Helly is only working when Master Malfoy is needing Helly; which is not very often, Miss." 

Hermione nodded at the elf's matter-of–fact answers. But her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "Where do you live, Helly?"

"Oh, Helly is living with Helly's family, Miss. Helly's mother and father is Hogwarts elves. Helly is living with them here. Master Malfoy is not needing Helly when Master Malfoy is at Malfoy Manor. Helly has only been to Malfoy Manor once, Miss, to deliver Master Malfoy to his mother when he was ill."

"Ah, yes. That bout he had with pneumonia last year. I remember," said Hermione, smiling gently down at Helly.

The elf looked stoutly up at her.

"And are you happy with Draco? Does he treat you well?" Hermione seriously disliked the thought that Draco owned a house-elf, particularly after her experience with Dobby, the Malfoy's old house-elf. 

"Oh, yes, Miss, Master Malfoy is most pleasant. He does not ask Helly to work more than necessary, Miss, but that does not bother Helly. Helly likes work, Miss, but Helly also likes to be with her family. Helly can do both while she is owned by Master Malfoy."

Hermione had never heard of students' personal elves before. "And how did Draco come to… erm—acquire you, Helly?" She wondered fleetingly if maybe she was being a bit severe in her questioning. But no house-elf had ever given her such straight answers before. She was moved by her curiosity.

"Helly was a present from Miss Calabria to Master Malfoy last year, Miss. And Miss Calabria asked Professor Dumbledore-Sir if Helly could work for Master Malfoy. And Professor Dumbledore-Sir, he said that Helly could if Helly wanted to. And so, Helly was bought by Miss Calabria."

The little elf paused. 

"So, Draco's sister bought you," prompted Hermione.

"Yes, Miss. Miss Calabria was most nice. She gave me to Master Malfoy for his birthday last year. Master Malfoy is most nice to Helly as well. Helly likes Master very much, indeed. Although, if Helly's honest opinion is asked, Helly does not think that Master Malfoy needs all of these belongings. " The little elf looked at the four trunks that Draco had piled in the Hall.

Hermione smiled at Helly as Draco himself came up the staircase, another trunk in tow. "I think that does it, Helly," he said decisively. "Hullo, Hermione. All packed?"

"Yes, quite," she answered. "Draco, have you spoken with the Headmaster?"

"Oh, yes, I spoke with him shortly after breakfast and he sees no problem with the arrangements as long as Helly here is chaperoning. He has been asked to be present at the Inquest tomorrow anyway, you know. But he requested that I tell you that he has a few things he need to take care of today and he regrets that he cannot travel with us. As it is, he is Apparating from Platform 9 ¾ tomorrow."

"Oh, that will be lovely," replied Hermione, glad to have her Headmaster there to support her.

"He gave me our tickets for the train," said Draco, producing them in a businesslike manner.

"I _was_ wondering how we were getting to London," admitted Hermione. 

"Ah, yes, Professor Dumbledore made the arrangements for one of the carriages to pick us up and take us to Platform 9 ¾. From there, we take the train to Diagon Alley and from the Leaky Cauldron into London. I was under the impression that you have made arrangements, with the er—_Muggle_ side of it," Draco looked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. However much Draco wanted to practice equality, he couldn't truly seem to grasp the idea that Muggles did _not_ carry some infectious deadly disease. Some things would never change.

"Yes. We're set as to hotel arrangements as long as you know where the Ministry Offices are…" Hermione highly suspected that they were Unplottable, because she had been unable to find any map that had shown her where they were.

"Of course I do," Draco said haughtily. He looked affronted.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him again and began to lug her trunk towards the door.

"Is that all you're bringing?" Draco asked incredulously. 

Hermione looked at Draco questioningly. "What do you mean, 'Is that all I'm bringing'? This is all I need."

"But- but—how? How can you only need _one suitcase?_" Draco looked genuinely puzzled.

Hermione just laughed and opened her trunk for a last-minute check. "Draco? I need to run back up to the Tower for something…"

"Fine, fine," he replied distractedly, giving his fifth trunk a measuring look. He flipped it open and began to dig through it. "Aha! Just as I suspected; still back in the Common Room. Right then, Hermione, I've got to grab something I've left behind as well, so… ten minutes?"

Hermione nodded and the two of them went their separate ways, leaving Helly to manage Draco's trunks.

*************

Hermione flew up the stairs, thinking as she went of packing another trunk entirely. _Does Draco honestly think we'll need that much stuff? Better safe than sorry._

She gave the Fat Lady the password and strode into a full Common Room. 

Ron and the girl from Hogsmeade, Hannah, were playing chess. Harry was reading _Quidditch Through The Ages, Volume Two_ for the seventh time and Ginny was doing some last-minute Transfiguration homework. Parvati and Lavendar were arguing over the astrology charts spread in front of them. Lavendar's sister was casting a lazy eye over the charts herself and making minor adjustments that neither her sister nor Parvati noticed. Everyone looked up as Hermione entered the Common Room.

"Well, well, well," said Ron from the floor. "Look who turned up..."

Hermione blushed. "Just because you haven't seen me here doesn't mean I haven't been here, Ron Weasley."

"Well," put in Lavendar, suddenly, "_We_ know you weren't in your bed last night, Hermione..."

Hermione pursed her lips. "It really is none of anyone's business where I was last night."

Ginny stood up from the table and said in a voice much like her mother's most ferocious, "That's _right_. Now leave her be!"

Everyone stared at her and she glared right back at them. "What Hermione does is her own business!"

"Thank you, Ginny," said Hermione as she made her way up to the dormitory. 

Ginny followed her. Someone would get answers in this Tower.

Hermione bustled around, packing another trunk very similar to the one Helly was currently loading onto Draco's horseless carriage. 

"Hermione?" said Ginny tentatively. "What are you doing?"

"Gin, you know I'm going to London today. I'm packing."

"Oh, yes, I'd almost forgotten," she said as she looked sheepishly at her best friend. She paused. "Hermione, are you sure you want to go alone? I'd be more—"

"I'm not going alone," interrupted Hermione.

"…than happy to go wi—what?" Ginny said.

"I said, I'm not going alone," replied Hermione, coloring slightly.

"Wha- what do you mean?"

"Draco's going with me."

"What?!"

"Draco is going to go with me. His mother owled him and he's going to go visit them. He's just traveling with me, really," Hermione said, not blinking. She felt bad about lying to Ginny, but the redhead would freak out if she knew that Draco was going simply to be with Hermione. Hermione stood in the middle of her room, knowing that she was forgetting something. Then she remembered that she wanted to pack her slippers, and continued flitting around her room.

"Is he going to the Inquest?" asked Gin, still disbelieving.

"Well, I don't know. He may just drop me off at Platform 9 ¾  and then go on to Malfoy Manor…" Hermione lied quickly. She snapped her trunk shut

Gin grabbed Hermione's wrist and forced the older girl to stay still for a moment. 

"Hermione."

Hermione wrung her hands nervously, but didn't answer.

"Hermione, what is going on? You're never like this. You seem so distracted. And what is with you and Malfoy? I know he's generally a nice guy, but do you really think it's OK to spend so much time with him?"

"Oh, Ginny," said Hermione as she sunk to the floor. "I'm so worried; I don't know if I'm what these people want… if I can live up to their standards… I mean, they're one of the oldest pure-blooded families in the wizarding world!"

"Hermione," said Gin, reproachfully, "Honey, do you think that they even care? They lost you when you were just a baby! Don't you think that they'd just be happy to have you back with them?"

Hermione, tears now falling silently, sniffed. "I suppose…"

"And as to the pure-blood thing: Hermione, the Spencers are the oldest family in Britain, followed by the Malfoys. But do you know who the third oldest family in Britain is?"

"Who?" asked Hermione, halfheartedly, blowing her nose.

"Us. Me. The Weasleys," replied Ginny, laughing. "And we aren't too terribly frightening, are we?"

Hermione managed a watery laugh. "No," she said, "I just suppose I'm being silly."

"Yes, you're being very silly," said Gin encouragingly. She helped her friend to her feet. "Now, come on, I won't give you a hard time about your pet Slytherin. He doesn't seem like too bad an influence."

"Oh," said Hermione, smiling a little. "He is."

*************

Unfortunately, Harry and Ron were not as easy to pacify as Professor Dumbledore had been. Hermione found it very difficult to get out of the Tower with them barricading the door.

"You're going with who?!"

Hermione had to sit them down and lie straight to her teeth to them before they gave their unwilling consent. Ginny still made noises leading Hermione to believe that she really wanted to go with them and chaperone, but Hermione firmly ignored her.

Hermione managed to finally get downstairs to Draco, who was waiting impatiently for her, coffee in hand. She dragged her trunk behind her.

Draco looked up to see his Hermione struggling with her luggage down the stairs. He rolled his eyes. For the smartest witch in their year, Hermione wasn't all that bright. Which, in Draco's opinion, didn't bode well for the rest of the sixth years. 

"Accio trunk!" he called, whipping out his wand. The trunk sailed out of Hermione's clutches and flew to Draco's feet. 

Hermione, looking distinctly disgruntled, trudged down the rest of the stairs after her baggage. She marched past Draco muttering, "Showoff…"

He shook his head and smiled wickedly.

************

Helly attempted to use her magic to pile all of their belongings onto the one carriage, but because Draco insisted on bringing along a sixth trunk, the house-elf had to summon a second carriage. Which was just as well, for Hermione and Draco wanted to be alone.

They snuggled together as the carriage flew smoothly down the lane. 

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know who will be at this Inquest? I mean, other than the two of us and my—the Spencers."

"Well," he said slowly, "The man that wrote to you, the Head of Utterly Frightful Cases or whatever it was, ought to be there, as well as an Unmentionable or two. The Grangers will be there," he shot a quick look at her; Hermione face was impossible to read. "And it's quite likely that any of the Aurors who worked on the case would be there."

"An Unmentionable?" she questioned, ignoring his mention of her parents.

"Yeah, you know, those skanky fellows that lurk around the Ministry… no one's quite sure exactly what they do, but Father says that he has known them to work with the Aurors on cases like this."

Hermione looked puzzled, so Draco elaborated, "My father has been a consultant on any cases the Department of Law Enforcement, which oversees all criminal cases, has had in which the Aurors suspect the use of serious Dark Magic. He's been using his knowledge of Dark Magic to assist the Ministry since the fall of the Dark Lord."

Hermione was shocked. "Your father works at the Ministry?"

"Of course he doesn't," Draco scoffed, sounding much like his old self, "He simply assists the Aurors when necessary. Father is quite the expert on Dark Magic and undoubtedly, those idiots at the Ministry need his expertise in order to catch half the criminals lurking around."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"I am not proud of some of the things my father has done, Hermione, don't get me wrong. But he has always done what he thought was best for the family, and for that I cannot blame him. I know that he's a hard man, that his opinions are somewhat… outdated…" Draco mulled over this for a moment and then continued, "No, actually, he's flat out wrong on a lot of the things he believes are right. Like that the Malfoys are better than everybody else because we're rich and pure-blooded and we've been around for ages. And he could definitely do with some instruction on fatherly affection." Draco made a face.

Hermione reached over and touched his arm lightly. He didn't seem to notice. "I know that my sister, for one, wishes her father was like her friends'. That he actually took an interest in what she does. But Father has actually never had much use for Calabria, though she's smarter than the rest of us combined. He always wanted her to be a boy. I think he was hoping that the second 'boy' would be more like him; for as you know, I take more after my mother in, er—temperament and looks."

"Not true!" interjected Hermione. "I've met your mother… and you're nothing like her! She's so—…"

"Spineless?" suggested Draco wryly.

"Well, I was going for submissive, but I won't disagree…" said Hermione.

"No, I realize that my mother is a… what has my father said, ah yes- 'simpering worthless trophy, only good for displaying to important businessmen. For their approval of Father's ability to conquer, of course.(A/N: D, you know I'm talking about you and David… you know I'm right about that.) But, although my mother is truly as such and my father believes me to be something along the above lines, I remain what I am." He paused and looked down at his fists, which were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He opened them and mentally reminded himself that he ought not to be quite so demonstrative. It wasn't very Malfoyish.

Hermione leaned against him and looked up into his impassive face. "And what exactly are you, Draco Malfoy?"

Draco was silent. Long after Hermione had returned to her own thoughts and given up on his answering her, he replied, "I am lost."

She frowned, and he read uncertainty on her face.

"Lost… somewhere in between. I was well on my way to becoming the male version of Narcissa, my lovely, useless mother when my father did two very unfortunate things."

"And what were they?"

"Well, first, he brought Calabria into this world. She's smart enough to be able to withstand his idiot, aristocratic, elitist ramblings. She'll be quite an ally for which ever side she chooses to take. My father's real mistake was having her in the first place; he will never be able to control her. But he has already demonstrated his real lack of intelligence by misjudging just how capable she is."

Draco paused and smiled.

"My father's second mistake was sending me to that school in America, Antherbans. Had he let me be, I'd be just as I was: spoiled, selfish, cowardly, and a general pain in the ass. But he sent me away to, as he put it, 'learn some gall.' And I did. But I also learned that I didn't want to be who I was. Who I'd been. I wanted to be better than that. And they let me, in America. You'd be surprised how quickly I learned. Right and wrong; they just seemed to be so much clearer after I experienced what it was like to be strong and independent. After I learned that I could stand up for the things that I really thought were true. And oh, Hermione, I don't know if I'll ever be able to explain it to you… it's just the way it is; I'm different. Different from who I was and different fro how my father wishes I was. He will never get the son he wanted. And frankly, I don't want to be the son he wanted." Draco let his head fall into his hands. 

Hermione slipped an arm around his waist and the other reached up to cradle his head. He leaned against her and she held him. He truly needed her, just at that very moment in time. It was nice to be taken care of, but even more so to take care of someone else. Now she knew why Draco had cherished his ability to care for her; because it was rewarding to be able to soothe another person.

They were silent for the rest of the ride to London. 

************

Helly unloaded the trunks and Hermione dealt with the Muggles. Draco brooded over a cup of coffee in a small café across the street from the hotel. 

Hermione joined him after a few moments and ordered a small cup of tea. They sat in a pleasant silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

Hermione's dwelled on the Spencers. Even Ginny's comforting words couldn't completely banish the creeping fear inside her that she wasn't up to her new families' standards.

Draco's voice shook her from her thoughts.

"Hermione!" he hissed suddenly.

"What? What is it?" she asked, alarmed by his tone of voice.

"Look over there," he said, peering out onto the street. "Do you see her?"

Hermione turned in her seat and looked out into the street as well. She couldn't see anyone that looked out of place until Draco grabbed her arm and pointed, his finger shooting past her violently. 

There was a small bookshop next to the hotel. A young girl, maybe about a year younger than the two, was standing in front of the window. She was slim, weighing about 115 pounds, and somewhat small, about 5'4". She was wearing fawn-colored corduroy jeans, a cream-colored cashmere sweater, scoop necked, a jacket of the same color as her jeans, cut as a jean jacket would, and a pair of creamy-brown high-heeled ankle boots. She had a cream-colored scarf and gloves on, the same shade as her sweater, and brown-red hair, cut short and curly. She turned, briefly, and Hermione saw that her eyes were the color of a summer's cloudless sky. It could only be one person.

Draco drew in breath. "It is her. It's Sirena."

**A/N:**

**IMPORTANT:                     To all readers: **I am SO SORRY!** I've been sick (on my deathbed, really) and trying to muddle through finals, but please enjoy! I'll try to be very good and have another chapter up, y'know, within the month… ::ahem:: Yeah, sorry about that. Anyway! This is another chapter of interim (I HATE doing this to you again, but I'm in an interim mood with the release of Two Towers, I suppose.) But we get Hermione out Hogwarts, we learn about Draco and his father (and Calabria), and we get LAV'S SISTER'S NAME (hah! exciting!) and I hope that's sufficient… please don't be mad at me… ::hides in cave with computer, furiously churning out chapter 6 while ignoring squawks from best friend to hurry the hell up::


	6. Anna Begins: Part 3

A/N: Ok, the entire author's note section was just getting out of hand, so I'm going to save all personal thanks for the final chapter. A General Thanks to all my reviewers and a special thanks to any and all who have reviewed more than once. I must special-personal-thanks these two people, however, for without them, this chapter would still be embedded in my brain: D, a.k.a. DracoDew17, and helly, helly120.   
Enjoy!  
  
A Long December

_Anna Begins: Part 3_  
  
The evening of January 2nd found Draco brooded over a cup of coffee in a small café across the street from the hotel at which they were staying. The Inquest was scheduled for the next morning at eight.   
  
Hermione joined him after a few moments and ordered a small cup of tea. They sat in a pleasant silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts.  
  
Hermione's flitted to her friends, Harry, Ron, and Ginny. They had been begging and pleading to accompany her on this trip for weeks. This past week was when she'd put a stop to it by telling them that if they did not stop pesting her about going to the Inquest, she would never help them with their homework again. She sighed, thinking that maybe it was foolish not to have allowed them to come. She needed their support. Her thoughts slipped into worrying about the Spencers. Even Ginny's comforting words couldn't completely banish the creeping fear inside her that she wasn't up to her new families' standards.  
  
Draco's voice shook her from her musings.  
  
"Hermione!" he hissed suddenly.  
  
"What? What is it?" she asked, alarmed by his tone of voice.  
  
"Look over there," he said, peering out onto the street. "Do you see her?"  
  
Hermione turned in her seat and looked out into the street as well. She couldn't see anyone that looked out of place until Draco grabbed her arm and pointed, his finger shooting past her violently.   
  
There was a small bookshop next to the hotel. A young girl, maybe about a year younger than the two, was standing in front of the window. She was slim, weighing about 115 pounds, and somewhat small, about 5'4". She was wearing fawn-colored corduroy jeans, a cream-colored cashmere sweater, scoop necked, a jacket of the same color as her jeans, cut as a jean jacket would be, and a pair of creamy-brown high-heeled ankle boots. She had a cream-colored scarf and gloves on, the same shade as her sweater, and brown-red hair, cut short and curly. She turned, briefly, and Hermione saw that her eyes were the color of a summer's cloudless sky. It could only be one person.  
  
Draco drew in breath. "It is her. It's Sirena."  
  
**************  
  
It was the morning of January 3rd, and Paul and Annie Granger had decided upon receiving their letter that they would go to the Inquest as requested, though they had very little information to offer to the case workers. They had no idea that Hermione would even be there.  
  
**************  
  
It was four in the morning and Rebecca du Morier-Spencer stared moodily out the window of the carriage. Her husband, next to her, reached over and squeezed her hand. He knew what she was feeling. Hopeful, but not too much. To get hopes up and be disappointed would be a blow neither one of them could take.  
  
Rebecca drummed her fingers on the windowsill. "How has it taken them this long to find her? These are supposed to be professionals, Charles!," she burst out.   
  
"Rebecca, darling, please. They've done all they possibly could," Charles soothed her, as he had been doing for the past three weeks. Ever since they received the letter from Pierce saying that they'd found her. They'd found their baby girl. "Sweetheart, you know Pierce thinks that there's dark magic behind this. You know that dark mag…"  
  
"I know, I know. I know everything to do with this case, Charles, you know that. Dark magic… if I ever get my hands on You-Know-Who…" Rebecca glared at the window, as if it were responsible.  
  
**************  
  
In the carriage behind them, Victoria Spencer was also staring moodily out the window. She tucked a long strand of straight dark hair behind an ear and rested her chin on her hand. She had her father's thick brown hair, the color of pecans. She closed her eyes, which, when open, were amber. Her facial structure was dainty, small-boned. Her nose was small and even, her mouth curvy and normally colored with dark lipstick. She wasn't wearing much make-up today; she didn't have the heart to get up and put in on that morning. She was nervous and anxious.  
  
It had been a lifetime ago since she had seen her little sister. Her first little sister. She's been three when the little one was born and nearly four when her baby sister disappeared in the night. And then the years of lonely nights, of her mother desolate and inconsolable, of her own feelings of inadequacy; she hadn't been able to save her baby sister and she hadn't been able to forgive herself for letting the baby get taken instead of her.  
  
There had been another baby, about five and a half years after her sister disappeared, and that one, Isabella, who was ten, was sitting next to her. Reading. Always reading, that one was. She had short, honey-colored curls and delicate glasses perched on an even, straight nose. Her eyes, though hard to see because of the glasses, were green, like their father's. Izzy was their father's favorite, being reserved and clear-headed. Most people assumed that she was shy and withdrawn, but her family knew that only spoke when she felt as if she had something important to say. Her dry sense of humor usually surprised most everyone, including those who knew her well.  
  
The youngest Spencer daughter, Alexandra, age seven, was on the other seat of the carriage, facing her older sisters. She was laying down, for it was very early in the morning and she was quite tired. Her hair was like Victoria's: a somewhat darker shade of brown and straight. It hung to her chin, much shorter than her oldest sister's, whose hair hung all the way down her back. Her green eyes were open and round with tension. She, like Izzy, had never known this sister that they were going to meet, but unlike Izzy, with whom she was very close, she wasn't really sure what had happened and why this sister wasn't living with them now. Victoria had tried to explain it to her: that this sister was stolen by somebody (but who? Victoria said she didn't know.) and had been living with another family because she didn't know that she was really a Spencer. That didn't make too much sense, but Victoria never lied.  
  
"Alexandra Marcelle," sang out Izzy. "Here it is." She'd been digging through an old book, a record of their family. Her father said it was a family tree, but in book form with notes. Well, he'd said it was annotated, but she knew that only meant it had notes.  
  
"Alexandra C. Marcelle. Born 1894, died 1964. She would be…" Isabella quickly calculated. "Let's see, it says here that she married into the du Moriers and had a son, George`, who must be Grandpere`. He married Grandmere` and had Aunt Marie, Uncle Renee`-George, and Mummy. So she was our great-grandmother. That's who you're named after."  
  
Alex smiled and sat up, interested. Izzy's voice also shook Victoria out of her glum stupor.   
  
"And hmmmm," said Izzy, peering intently at the book. "Let's find me." She thumbed through the pages for a moment and then said, "Aha! I'm named after a Spencer, I bet, not a du Morier." She flipped more towards the back of the book and was silent, reading, for a moment.  
  
"William R. Spencer, born 1920, died 1990. Married Isabella A. Rowan, born 1926, died 1950. One son, Charles; that's Dad. So, I'm named after Father's mother. And look! Here are all of us for real, not just our namesakes." She pushed her glasses up further on her nose excitedly and began again to read in her clear voice.  
  
"Listen: Charles W. Spencer, born 1949. Married Rebecca C. du Morier, born 1955. Four daughters: Victoria Marie," Victoria nodded and smiled. "Um-me, here I am, Isabella Renee`, and here's you, Allie: Alexandra Marcelle."  
  
Izzy closed the book and smiled up at her sisters. "Excellent," she said.   
  
"Wait a moment, Isabella," said Victoria suddenly. "You skipped our-you know, other sister. Open up that book again."  
  
Izzy looked reluctantly at the book. She had nothing against the sister that had been taken from them, but she had always been compared to this mysterious child. She flipped through the pages again and thought she probably ought to at least be truthful with herself. She felt like she had been the replacement, the filler child ("Maybe this baby will make us forget about the other one,") and she supposed that she harbored a little resentment towards her sister, whoever she was, just because Izzy never felt that she'd been able to measure up.  
  
"Anastasia Colette," she said, reading the name from under Victoria's aloud for her sisters.   
  
Anastasia. The Lost One.  
  
**************  
  
The day before, after spotting the girl in front of the bookstore, Draco had pulled a protesting Hermione away from the window while Sirena looked around, as if searching for something. Draco watched intently as she scanned the faces of the people inside the bookstore and those passing her. Then she seemed to notice that she looked out of place and went into the bookstore, still searching.  
  
"Quick!" he hissed at Hermione, who crouched with him next to an empty table near the back, looking distinctly embarrassed. "Now! Go!" He pushed her out the door and rushed across the street. As soon as they entered the hotel, Draco hauled Hermione straight to the elevator, which she had previously explained to him, and randomly pushed a button.  
  
"What are you doing?!" Hermione shrieked, recovering enough from the shock of his sudden and inexplicable actions. "We're not even on that floor!"  
  
Draco looked irritated. "Well, then, take us to the right floor, and I'll explain when I'm sure that we're not being listened to."  
  
Hermione pushed the correct button and then gave Draco a look that plainly said 'You're paranoid, psychotic, and you're frightening me.' "Why-," she started, but he cut her off with a quick movement of his hand.  
  
The elevator dinged and they stepped off of it. Hermione guided them to their adjacent rooms, 1472 and 1474.  
  
She unlocked the door to the first one and entered, still slightly put out about their incredibly strange exit from the café.   
  
Draco immediately whipped out his wand and said, "Illuminatum Encantatum!" The room blazed with white lights for a moment and then reverted back to its normal colors.   
  
Hermione blinked.  
  
They were both silent for a moment and then she lost patience and said, "Well? Would you like to tell me why, after seeing Sirena Brown across the street, we ran screaming from that café?"  
  
Draco looked at her seriously for a moment and then said, "Have you noticed that wherever we go, we always manage to run into Sirena Brown? Any trip to Hogsmeade, most times we leave the castle, when we're on the grounds, even, and now, when we're away in London? Doesn't that seem somewhat strange to you?"  
  
Hermione frowned. It was true that they seemed to run into Sirena more often than not and that she always looked happy to see them, but she'd never thought that she may be following them.   
  
"It-it could be, I suppose, but-oh, honestly, Draco, she's a child! She couldn't be-why would she spy on us? It doesn't make sense! She has no reason to do that!" Hermione was disturbed by the thought of being watched, but even more so by the cold and calculating Draco that the entire possible-stalking thing had brought about.  
  
"No, she has no obvious reason, Hermione, I'll give you that, but I'm going to keep an eye on her… she's up to something. I can feel it." He looked just as troubled as she felt.  
  
***************  
  
If Hermione Anne had been nervous in the days before the Inquest, it was nothing like how she felt the next morning when Draco shook her awake at six.  
  
"Up,' he commanded, coffee in hand already. "We need to be there in an hour and a half." He strode through the connecting door purposefully and Hermione couldn't help but notice that a) he'd left that door open and b) he was not wearing a shirt. She tried very hard not to think of this as she crawled into the shower. Morning person she was not.  
  
And then the nerves started. The twisting and flipping of her stomach began when she thought "This is the day I meet my parents…"  
  
**************  
  
It was the same feeling that was coursing through five people who were still speeding towards London, edging ever closer. It was six AM and they were closing in on the city. They would be there in about an hour and a half.  
  
Rebecca tried sleeping, but was unable to remain still.   
  
Charles took up a book, but wasn't seeing any of the words. All he saw were his few and distant memories of little Anna, his lost daughter.  
  
Little Alexandra lay on her eldest sister's lap , sleeping peacefully. They were so much alike that they found each other choice companions, but the age difference between them, twelve years, was a definite obstacle. Ultimately, Izzy and Alex were closer because they were closer in age. Izzy was now on the other seat, opposite her sisters, asleep.   
  
She had worried herself to sleep. Who was this girl? What is this going to do to our family? She wished desperately that her best friend, Brie, would be there. She was afraid of this girl, this Anastasia.  
  
And Victoria. She was just plain scared. It wasn't often that she was scared in this way, but the prospect of seeing her long-lost sister again, after sixteen years, was terrifying. What will she be like? Will she be a total outsider? What are Mum and Dad going to do?  
  
**************  
  
Seven o'clock. Seven oh-two. The minutes ticked slowly by.   
  
Annie Granger watched them from inside the room. The white room with a large oval table and about two dozen chairs placed around it. She and her husband occupied two. The man who'd sent them that awful letter, Pierce Oculin, sat across from them.  
  
He had sharp grey eyes and hair that was once blonde like Draco's but was now white with age. He kept it clipped short and brisk, like his manners. He was tall and slim, making him seem somewhat imposing. He spoke in short, curt tones that were not unfriendly, only businesslike and efficient.  
  
He was certainly intimidating Paul Granger, and he did not appreciate it. Paul sat glaring at a spot on the wall, not wanting to be the first to speak.   
  
Pierce Oculin took an instant dislike to these Muggles as soon as they had arrived. The man was distrustful and suspicious and the woman seemed to be frightened by the smallest sound. What had surprised him, though, was the child was not with them. And that they had no idea where she was; they claimed not to have spoken with her for several weeks. Pierce found this somewhat farfetched, but he said nothing in reply.  
  
The door swung open and who but Lucius Malfoy, dressed from head to toe in black velvet robes, swept in?   
  
"Oculin," he acknowledged with a nod.   
  
Oculin stood and shook his hand. "Mr. Malfoy," he said gravely. "Thank you for coming, sir."  
  
Lucius Malfoy had always found this man to be somewhat dry, but incredibly adept and had a begrudging respect for him. It helped that Lucius and Pierce had been school-children together. The door was still open and then Lucius' wife, Narcissa, and his daughter trailed in.  
  
Narcissa looked particularly insipid. Her complexion was no longer milky white, but simply pale and colorless. It looked thin as paper and was beginning to show signs of age. Her face was delicately structured, her features refined. Her pale blonde hair had lost its lustrous shine and was somewhat limp and bland, but her eyes, always a sharp blue, were fixed on the small girl accompanying her.  
  
"My wife, as you know, Pierce, and this is my daughter Calabria," intoned Lucius, as he had at every business occasion that he could think of for the last several years.   
  
The young girl looked exactly as Pierce remembered Narcissa to be. In fact, had Narcissa herself not been standing there, Pierce would have thought the small girl to be her mother. Her eyes were the same deep blue and her hair, though a shade darker, was heavy and straight, as Narcissa's had once been. The skin, the nose, the cheekbones; they were all the same.  
  
But as he bowed his head slightly to Narcissa, the child considered him with an intensity Narcissa had never possessed.   
  
"Good morning, Miss Malfoy," he said, bowing his head in her direction as well.  
  
She, however, extended her hand. "Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Oculin."  
  
He shook her hand, surprised. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lucius motion for them to sit down. The Malfoys ignored the Grangers completely.  
  
"So, Oculin, are the other school chairmembers coming to this meeting? And will Fudge be here? This is a case of a Hogwarts school-child, you know, not to mention a high-profile Ministry case involving one of the most prominent families of our world," Lucius said, harshly. "And who are these Muggles? Why are they here? This doesn't concern them!"  
  
The Muggle man, Mr. Granger, stood and glared at Lucius, who regarded him coldly with steely-grey eyes.  
  
"Mr. Granger, please sit," Oculin said sharply. "Lucius, I invite you as well to take a seat." Malfoy gave the Grangers another contemptuous look-over and selected a seat near to the head of the table, next to his wife.  
  
Oculin walked around to the head of the table, shut the door, and continued, "This is a matter concerning all of you. You, Lucius, are involved in the Ministry of Magic and sit on the board for Hogwarts therefore it is your right to be present. You family is included in this invitation, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Granger are here at my invitation, Lucius," he continued. "They play an important part in the unraveling of the events that we have been investigating. And in response to your question, yes, Mr. Fudge will, of course, be present. You represent the board for Hogwarts, but Dumbledore himself is coming, as are several of the Aurors who have worked on this case. And Thomas Croaker will be here; you know, an Unspeakable. We've been working very closely with the Department of Mysteries on this case." He sat down and suddenly looked very tired.   
  
Little Calabria was the only one to notice it as the clock chimed seven fifteen and the door opened again. It admitted a tall man with thick dark brown hair and small, round, gold-rimmed glasses, a small but graceful woman with great glorious amber eyes and golden-brown hair, another woman, about twenty years younger, who bore a great resemblance to the man, but had her mother's eyes, and two children.  
  
Both the Muggles stood immediately and the Malfoys collectively thought that they'd always suspected that Muggles were nothing more than humanoid animals, frightened by the smallest noise.  
  
The man immediately strode forward, a smile breaking out on his face. It was a good-natured smile, open and friendly. "Pierce, old boy! How are you?"   
  
"I'm fine, thank you, Charles. And yourself?"  
  
"As well as could be expected, I suppose, Pierce. Hullo, Malfoy, how're you?" Lucius stood, and the man, Charles, moved to shake his hand. "And Narcissa, and Calabria." He nodded to each of them.   
  
The first woman, the older of the two in the doorway, stood hesitantly next to Oculin, speaking with him quietly. The younger of the two women maneuvered around the table with the two children sat next to the Malfoy girl. The elder of the two began to converse spiritedly with Calabria, while the younger sat quietly.   
  
The older woman, whom Oculin addressed as Rebecca, moved over to where the Grangers stood.  
  
How she looks like Hermione, thought Annie Granger. And the horrible thought came to her that the reason this woman looked like Hermione was because this woman was her mother. Annie nearly swooned.   
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Granger?" she said, tentatively.  
  
Paul said, "Countess." He inclined his head in a short bow.  
  
Rebecca colored. She'd forgotten that these were Muggles, who would know her by her husband's Muggle titles. "Please," she said, laughing slightly, "Call me Rebecca."  
  
She looked somewhat uncertainly at Annie Granger.  
  
Annie tried to fight back the tears that were rising in her eyes. This woman was Hermione's real mother. Did that make her nothing but a paltry substitute? In made her furious and ashamed at the same time. She hated this woman without knowing her and that was undeserved entirely. And though she wanted to keep Hermione away from these people, she couldn't keep her child from her birthright any longer. And that made her long for the simple days when she was Hermione's mother and Paul was her father and Hermione was their daughter. Those days, she knew, were long gone and never to be repeated.  
  
Rebecca Spencer looked as if she was about to say something, but the arrival of several men stopped her. One was short, with slightly patchy brown-grey hair and a missing eye. There were several chunk of his face missing particularly from his nose. He hobbled on a peg leg. The second man had black hair, black eyes and clear, pasty skin. He was tall, taller even, than Charles Spencer, and very very thin.   
  
"Alastor Moody! Thomas Croaker! Welcome," said Pierce Oculin, shaking their hands. "Everyone, please sit down." Lucius resumed his seat next to Narcissa and the Spencers went to sit by the younger woman and the two children. Annie Granger instantly regretted her hesitation. That had been her moment to speak with Hermione's birth mother!  
  
The two men, Moody and Croaker, sat at the opposite end of the table from Oculin and the Grangers, across from the Spencers and the Malfoys.  
  
Then a older man, of about the same height as Charles Spencer with a long white beard, half-moon glasses, and kind blue eyes entered, followed by a shorter man in a green bowler hat. All of the wizards and witches stood, and the Muggles fumbled to do the same.   
  
"Minister, Professor," said Oculin, bowing and shaking hands. The two men went around shaking hands, greeting everyone as if they were old friends. The Grangers knew Professor Dumbledore, as he was Hermione's Headmaster, but they gathered that the other man was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.  
  
He greeted the Grangers cordially, and took his seat between the head of the table where Oculin was settling himself and Dumbledore, who sat to his left. Annie Granger sat between Dumbledore and her husband, nervously.   
  
Three more men entered just then, all looking weary, but only Oculin stood to greet them. Alastor Moody growled a hello and both Dumbledore and Fudge nodded to them.   
  
Oculin motioned for them to sit and quickly resumed his own seat, the back of it facing the door. The three men went to sit next to Croaker and Moody. There were two seats between the nearest of the men and Paul Granger; and in his opinion, there couldn't be enough space between them. Something about those three men and that Croaker and Moody gave him the shudders.  
  
Some polite conversation circled the table for a moment before all fell quiet.  
  
Seven forty-five.   
  
And they waited for her to come.  
  
**************  
  
Draco got into the shower at seven-ten, causing Hermione to fret that they would be late. But surely not, she thought, Boys only take about five minutes in the shower.  
  
At seven forty-five, Hermione was still glaring at an incredibly dashing-looking Draco, dressed in impeccably kept black velvet robes. They were riding in the elevator up to the 14th floor of the Ministry building. Draco had emerged from the shower only five minutes before.   
  
"But my hair-," he whined, "It's still wet! And there isn't any gel in it! And it's humid outside!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. Her own golden-brown silk robes clung to her soft frame and matched her hair and eyes perfectly.   
  
"And look," said Draco dramatically. "There is a wrinkle in my robes!"  
  
The elevator dinged and Hermione thought she must have been mad to bring Draco in Ginny's place.  
  
Draco strode masterfully down the hall, leading the way. Hermione walked cautiously behind him. He stopped in front of door 1412. Inquestion was emblazoned on the door. Hermione frowned at it.  
  
A play on words or incorrect grammar? she mused.  
  
Draco suddenly spun around and put both hands on her shoulders.  
  
"What?" she said, surprised.  
  
"Hermione-," he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. "I just want you to know…"  
  
He paused, unsure.  
  
"What, Draco?" she asked, impatient for them to get inside, for her to be able to meet her parents.  
  
"I lo-," he began, when the door swung open, revealing Pierce Oculin.  
  
"You have arrived," he said.  
  
Draco moved from between the two to behind Hermione and she got a glance of a room full to the brim with people.  
  
Draco placed a hand on her back, pushing her forward.  
  
Hermione stepped into the room and recognized several of the people right away. Her par- the Grangers, Albus Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, Professor Moody, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. And then there were people that she did not recognize, but who looked familiar. They looked… just like her.  
  
"Welcome, Anastasia."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N:  
  
Ha! How on earth did I manage to squeeze in another 4 ½ thousand words between Chap 5 and Mione's session of Meet The Parents??? I have no idea, but I'm too tired to write emotional turmoil right now (I wrote most of this this weekend) and so, Chap 7 (tentatively titled A Murder of One) will come in the near future.  
  
IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE BE SURE TO CHECK OUT A LONG DECEMBER: ADAM'S STORY!   
(IT'S A SUB-STORY THAT MAY ACTUALLY REVEAL MORE OF A LONG DECEMBER THAN A LONG DECEMBER DOES!)  
  
Thanks to all who've reviewed, and Helly, I promise to take you up on that idea of brainstorming for Chapter 7!  
  
To sakura1287: I totally ripped off the hysterical "Draco Malfoy: The Amazing Bouncing…Rat?" by Maya (found on schnoogle) in the area of Draco's coffee thing. It was just so me, I couldn't resist! I recommend this story to anyone who has even the slightest passing interest in Draco Malfoy. (who doesn't, eh?)


	7. A Murder of One

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed… I love you all!  
  
Please don't get your hopes up about me posting this often again, cause this was just a freak accident. Chapter 6 has been sitting in my computer for about 2 weeks and I was just unable to get it posted. So, technically, it was time for me to write again, I just ended up posting pretty close to Chapter 6…  
  
Um-to warn you… I promise to make everything OK… just wait for it… all will be revealed in time, as Dumbledore says.   
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
*******************  
A Murder of One  
*******************  
  
_Curiosity, Kitten, doesn't mean have to you're on your own  
You can look outside you're window; he doesn't have to know…  
  
  
~Counting Crows_  
  
  
  
  
  
She rode to the fourteenth floor. It was surprisingly simple to get into this building. The elevator dinged. The doors opened and in front of her were five wizards, wands pointed at her face.  
  
The wizard in the center stepped forward. "Well," he said, looking grim, "It seems as if we have a problem."  
  
She smiled at them, particularly at him, and closed her eyes. She felt a stream of thoughts leave her and flow into the wizard who had spoken. The silvery thread, seemingly frail, resembled the thoughts that went into a Pensieve. All five of the wizards saw it flow from her mind into the front wizard's, but all were too stunned to do much more than stare. None of them could remember if she had drawn a wand or not.   
  
The front wizard felt his brain tighten suddenly. It felt as if two claws were clasping his head and sucking out his thoughts. Within a few seconds, he blacked out, falling to the floor. All his companions saw was the thread of thoughts flowing between the girl and Smith, the Head of the Hit Team.  
  
And then Smith fell. There was a flash of blinding light and four voices shouted at once.   
  
And when the smoke cleared, there she stood, still inside the elevator, with an alarmingly strong defensive wall around her. She smiled at them and reached out both of her hands. She closed her eyes. She's never done this before, but she knew that she could. Four strands of the silvery, delicate Pensieve-thoughts came from her temples. And within 30 seconds, she was lowering her defensive shields and sidestepping the bodies of the five Hit-Wizards.   
  
She walked down the hall, calmly. 1408, 1410, ah, here it is. She could feel the aura of power surrounding the room. She stood in front of the closed door for a few moments.   
  
The emblazoned word Inquestion glared back at her. The number 1412 was on the wall next to the door. She pressed her fingers to the number and it grew warm under her touch. She felt her legs begin to tense and laughed at the complete incompetence of the Ministry. She murmured a few unintelligible words at the numbers and they melted. The bronze letters ran in streams down the wall and the feeling in her legs immediately went away. She knew that the Ministry would hide protective spells in places that no one would expect. Except for her.  
  
She opened the door. She tucked fly-away strands of her hair behind her ears and surveyed the room. All conversation had halted and everyone in the room stared at her.  
  
Albus Dumbledore seemed to know what she planned to do and rose swiftly to his feet, wand pointed at her. But the words were already out of her mouth.  
  
"_Efomarse Anastasia Obliviate Heciso!_" she called, throwing a hand out in front of her, pointing her palm towards the amber-eyed girl at the foot of the table. The amber-eyed girl disappeared with a crack and then, in a smug swirl of smoke, she who had so burst in upon their meeting was gone.  
  
Everyone in the room stood in silence, shocked.  
  
Then, quickly, Dumbledore and the man standing next to him, called Fudge, moved, wands outstretched, towards the seat of the amber-eyed girl, as did four men who had been seated close to her. Three of them were non-descript brown-haired brown-eyed men that all looked alike, but the fourth was shorter, with patchy grey hair and a large chunk missing from his nose. He moved no slower than the rest, despite his peg leg. The six men began to perform various incantations on the chair.  
  
As soon as the amber-eyed girl had disappeared, a woman with short mud-brown hair had fainted and was now being supported by her husband. A taller man with pecan-colored hair had risen very suddenly and stumbled over his children to help the six men trace the spell. A blonde man with sharp eyes and a sharper nose stood and held the elbow of a frail looking blonde woman, while a child that greatly resembled the woman moved to embrace the only other two children present. An older girl clutched the table and the woman who sat beside her collapsed into her chair.  
  
And a younger blonde man, who looked exactly like the blonde child, stood slowly and walked to the door.  
  
"Draco," said the older blonde man suddenly. He shared his sharp eyes with his son; eyes that met now, one pair in a semblance of concern and the other in anger.   
  
"I have to go, Father," said Draco, daring Lucius to argue.   
  
"You can't-," began his father. "She's gone, Draco. The last time, she did not come back for nearly seventeen years."  
  
"Do you know something that would help me, Father? Is there something that you've not told me?" the younger man, Draco, stepped toward his father angrily.   
  
Lucius looked at his child haughtily. "Do not adopt that tone with me, Draco Malfoy," he snapped. "I know no more than you about this, but I, unlike you, son, have the sense not to rush off and attempt something that is completely beyond you."  
  
Draco glared at his father and then the younger blonde girl said from behind her father, "Father, I think that it is beyond you to save Anastasia. Luckily, it is not beyond Draco."  
  
She avoided her father's piercing glare as she joined her brother at the door. "Draco, if you intend to do this, at least allow me to help you."  
  
She looked up at him stoutly and Draco knew that he would be better off with her by his side.   
  
Another small girl, about the same size as Draco's sister, came up to him as well and said, "Please. Please bring back my sister." She looked sadly at her mother. "For Mum."  
  
Draco and Calabria looked at her, Isabella Spencer, and then at Victoria Spencer, her oldest sister, and Alexandra, the youngest. All of them had found and again lost a sister in the last hour.   
  
And they looked at Charles and Rebecca Spencer, the parents of the three remaining Spencer girls and the one just taken from them.   
  
And they looked at the Grangers, the two people who had raised Anastasia as their own.   
  
And they looked at their own parents, who would never mourn them as the Spencers had and would mourn Anastasia.  
  
Draco turned to Calabria and said, "Come on. Let's go."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
~One hour before~  
  
  
"Come on. Let's go," he said to Hermione. And they went in.  
  
Everyone stood. Hermione saw Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, Professor Dumbledore, her mom and dad-no, the Grangers, and then three men she didn't know, a creepy looking guy with pasty skin and short black hair, and Professor Moody. On the other side of the table, she saw Draco's mother and father, positively glaring at Draco, his sister, and then five people she did not know: a man, two women and two little girls, all of whom looked like she did.   
  
The man who had opened the door for them introduced himself as Pierce Oculin, the man who had sent her the letter.  
  
Draco led her to the foot of the table and sat to her right.  
  
Oculin cleared his throat and looked distinctly uncomfortable. He remained standing and, for the first time in his life, felt unsure of what to do. "Erm-I think a round of introductions is necessary," he said in his short, clipped tones.   
  
He ran through the Malfoys, and then introduced the first of the five people she knew were her family.  
  
"Earl Charles Spencer," Oculin said and the man, who had darker, straight hair and glasses smiled at her. She returned a weak one of her own.  
  
"Countess Rebecca Spencer," said Oculin. The woman who had Hermione's amber eyes and honey colored hair smiled and then rose. Hermione was unsure of what to do until Draco motioned for her to stand as well. The woman, her eyes foggy, came and hugged Hermione tightly. Hermione relaxed instantly in this woman's arms. She felt an odd sort of longing for this family that she had never known. The woman smiled at her bravely as they returned to their seats.   
  
"Lady Victoria Spencer," said Oculin, motioning towards a girl who, like their mother, had the same eyes as she did. It was so strange to think of this girl as her sister and that they shared Rebecca as a mother.  
  
"Lady Isabella Spencer," introduced Oculin. A girl about the size of Calabria Malfoy, regarded Hermione distrustfully. She had short honey-colored curls and small, round, gold-rimmed glasses.  
  
"Lady Alexandra Spencer," Oculin motioned to the smallest child there, who had the green eyes of their father. She also got out of her chair and hugged Hermione. She whispered in her ear, "My mum and dad won't call me Alex, but Victoria does… will you?"  
  
Hermione smiled encouragingly at her… little sister. "Of course," she whispered back.   
  
"I'm glad you came back, Anna," said the little girl softly before returning to her seat.  
  
Hermione kind of jolted. Anna? Why did this little girl think that her name was Anna? And why did that Oculin man keep calling her Anastasia?  
  
Oculin introduced Draco, Fudge, Dumbledore, and her parents to all who may not have known them. Then he said, "This is Brian McDaniel, Nicholas Peyton, and Mark Webster, Aurors. And Mr. Thomas Croaker, who works for the Department of Mysteries; and Mr.-er Professor-erm…"  
  
"Alastor Moody, I'm an Auror," growled Moody.   
  
"And of course," continued Oculin, "Anastasia." He motioned to Hermione.   
  
Hermione's curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "Why do you call me that? My name is Hermione."  
  
Annie Granger smiled broadly.  
  
Rebecca Spencer looked into Hermione's eyes and said, "Anastasia is your birth name, love. Anastasia Colette Spencer. Named for my mother, Colette, and her mother, Annette."  
  
Hermione smiled at her and Annie Granger felt a familiar jealousy course through her.   
  
Oculin cleared his throat and asked everyone if he could present the facts currently possessed by the Ministry. Then he asked that any additional information that could be provided be presented afterwards.  
  
Around the table, heads nodded and Hermione's heart jumped and her butterflies increased.   
  
"Anastasia Colette Spencer, born 8 August 1980 to Charles and Rebecca Spencer, with one older sister, Victoria. She vanished under untraceable circumstances from her crib in her shared bedroom with her sister. The Ministry, due to the rise of You-Know-Who was currently in a state of anarchy, and therefore an investigation was not begun until late January of 1981, after the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. There were no signs of forced entry or magical spells used to enter the household. No wand was used that night. Anastasia was found to be missing at six o clock on the morning of 9 December, 1980, shortly after her four-month birthday. The Ministry worked on this case for one year, and then it was transferred to my department where we have been working on it to this day. Though we searched the entire magical world many times over, we never thought to look anywhere in the Muggle world, where Anastasia turned up sometime close to February of 1981. That was when she arrived at Sotheby's Orphanage and was adopted within days by Paul and Anne Granger. She was raised in London and attended primary school until receiving her Hogwarts acceptance letter. She remained under the alias of 'Hermione Anne Granger' and went through five years of school at Hogwarts as such. Two months ago, we received a letter, unsigned, that we were unable to trace. It said, and I quote:  
_hermione spencer lost one prophecy undo darkness defeat evil_  
At such time, we looked into the records of all witches named Hermione that would be the same age as Anastasia Spencer. Hermione Granger was the only name that came up. It was then further ascertained that she was adopted and while cross referencing pictures, we noticed the great resemblance between Anastasia and her mother. So we sent letters to everyone present to inform them of this Inquest."  
  
He took a deep breath, as did almost everyone in the room. "Now will Mr. and Mrs. Spencer and Anastasia please come to the front of the room?"  
  
Hermione fleetingly wondered what this was for, but they did so and then Oculin deferred to Dumbledore.  
  
Professor Albus Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling kindly, he explained, "I will be performing on the three of you what is called the 'Bloodline Spell.' If you are related by blood directly, such as mother to daughter or father to daughter, then your lifelines will light up in different colors. For example, Mr. Spencer's lifelines will turn red, and Hermione's will become green, when I perform the spell on the two of them."  
  
He instructed Charles Spencer and Hermione to stand facing each other and place their hands palm to palm. He took out his wand and pointed at their outstretched hands.   
  
"_Consagine_!" he said, swish-and-flicking his wand expertly.   
  
Immediately Charles Spencer felt his palms grow warm where they touched his daughter's. All of the veins in his hands grew a bright red, as his child's slowly turned green. It had worked. They were blood relatives. He felt his heart surge. This was his darling Anna.  
  
"_Finite_!" called Dumbledore. "Please make a note that Mr. Spencer is a blood relative, specifically, the paternal parent of Miss Granger. Now, Mrs. Spencer, if you please."  
  
Hermione, feeling somewhat excited that they had determined that Mr. Spencer was her father, joined palms with Mrs. Spencer and the ritual was performed again.  
  
Rebecca Spencer's veins turned blue and again, Hermione's turned green. She felt an overwhelming relief that her baby had finally been found.   
  
Hermione hugged… her mother again after Dumbledore broke the spell and then, for the first time in sixteen years, hugged her father. He had a difficult time hiding his tears of happiness; his wife cried openly.  
  
Professor Dumbledore smiled at them and then asked, "If I could please do just one more Bloodline Spell? We need three to complete Ministry guidelines, although there is no doubt in my mind that Miss Granger is your daughter."  
  
He motioned to Victoria Spencer to come and join palms with her sister. She smiled briefly at Hermione and Hermione smiled back.  
  
"_Consagine_!" Dumbledore called again, and this time, both of the girls lit up bright white. Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. He ended the spell and said, "Make note that Miss Spencer and Miss Granger are also blood relatives."  
  
The confident, assured voice of Calabria Malfoy then rang out. "Professor? Why did Anastasia turn a different color during the spell with Victoria?"  
  
Lucius Malfoy glared at his child, but Dumbledore explained, "Different bonds create different colors. Blue for mothers, red for fathers, green for daughters, yellow for sons. White for sisters, black for brothers. For example, Miss Malfoy, if I did the Bloodline Spell on you and young Mr. Malfoy," he motioned to Draco, "Your lifelines would turn white and his black."  
  
Calabria nodded, satisfied, and Oculin asked everyone to again sit.   
  
"Now that definite blood relations have been established between the Spencers and Anastasia, I would like to turn to Mr. Peyton, who has been the head Auror on this case. Mr. Peyton?"  
  
"Thank you, Pierce. As we've said, the reasons for this kidnapping are not in any way clear. And unfortunately, we are not any farther along in finding the culprit than we were the day the investigation began. Our main suspect, is obviously You-Know-Who, but we have been unsuccessful in finding a link between the two. The note that we received was our first clue in years and we have been working to decode it for some time now." Peyton sat back down, looking weary.  


Moody took over. "We have a slight idea of why someone would want Hermione, but that cryptic letter is all we have to aid us. It says:   
_hermione spencer lost one prophecy undo darkness defeat evil. _  
We gather that Hermione was a Spencer, and the end result was as you can see, quite successful. The next words are lost one, which we think is also in reference to the Hermione being a Spencer, the lost Spencer child. Then it speaks of this prophecy. Now, we've looked through the Book of Prophecies, from Delphi, and there is only one that speaks of 'defeating darkness' and, translated, it says:  
  
"Raised a witch, will undo dark  
Raised apart, will fall  
Second of a strong line  
May conquer evil all  
  
Born in year triumphant  
Lost to darker lands   
May return to walk the light  
If dark one by her stands  
  
The greatest witch to ever live  
If she can break free  
From he who holds her prisoner  
In her heart is he  
  
"This prophecy is one of maybe a hundred, most of which have been already played out. It foretold, rather obscurely, of the rise of You-Know-Who, for example. This is one of about five prophecies that have not unfolded."  
  
Croaker, the pasty-skinned tall man with slick black hair, the Unspeakable, then said, "The prophecy clearly states that if raised a witch, the girl from the prophecy would defeat all darkness, but if she was not, than goodness will come to an end. In my opinion, this enough of a link to put the blame squarely on the shoulders of Voldemort." He ignored the flinches of almost everyone seated around the table. "He is evil itself and it would not be beyond him in the slightest to kidnap or even kill Anastasia in order to keep her from growing up a witch and therefore being able to 'undo evil.'"  
  
Fudge piped up, "You mean to tell me, Croaker, that an anonymous letter plus an ancient 'prophecy' equal immediate and final blame? And you do realize that you can blame You-Know-Who all you want but there's nothing anyone can do about it!"  
  
Dumbledore said, "I do not think that we should dismiss the validity of the Delphi Oracle, Cornelius. She has proven herself to be quite useful many a time. However, while I respect it as evidence, I do hope that the entire investigation is not solely based upon this letter which could very easily be misleading."  
  
Peyton looked at Dumbledore questioningly. "How can you say that, Professor? It was that letter that led us to the recovery of Miss Spencer here."  
  
Dumbledore nodded but said, "I would just like to remind you that things may not be exactly what they seem."  
  
Draco, though he had been watching all with his hawk's eye glare, had yet to speak. He pursed his lips at his Headmaster's ambiguous meaning and drawled, "And I suppose the 'dark one' spoken about is Harry Potter?"  
  
Croaker and Peyton looked at him in surprise. Moody did not. "Good eye, boy," he growled. "Perhaps I was wrong about you. I think that that is something we have yet to consider: the other elements of the prophecy. For instance, what do you make of the phrases born in year triumphant, and lost to darker lands?"  
  
Fudge said impatiently, "That is obvious, Moody. Born in year triumphant… was not Miss Granger born the year You-Know-Who was defeated by Harry Potter? Lost to darker lands… well," he looked a little embarrassed. "Who doesn't consider the Muggle world a dark place? A world without magic…" he shuddered.   
  
Dumbledore said quietly, "I think that there is a deeper meaning to these words, Cornelius."  
  
"What do you propose the meaning to be, then, Dumbledore?" snapped Fudge.  
  
"I could not possibly presume to prematurely understand the Oracle, Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly. "All will be revealed, in time."  
  
Another of the Aurors, McDaniel, then said, "Well, it does say, definitely, that if she was not raised a witch, all goodness will fall. Is it too late? Has she been 'raised apart'?"  
  
Peyton, the head Auror, said, "She has been a witch since age eleven, has she not? I think that she was definitely caught before she was 'raised.'"  
  
Draco was becoming quickly impatient of these idiots. He could not believe that these people were actually Aurors. "But-," he said, "Going back to the part where it says Born in year triumphant… if that truly means the year You-Know-Who was defeated by Potter, then how was You-Know-Who able to kidnap her?"  
  
Hermione frowned at him. This was the same Draco that had been so cold and calculating after assuming that Sirena Brown had been following them. He was brisk and businesslike, thinking of things that had never occurred to most of them. It made Hermione uncomfortable, because this was a side of Draco that she was not familiar with, a side that she had never seen. She had learned a lot about him in the last few weeks, but this was strange territory and she didn't like it. She wanted him to be the same old, comfortable Draco she had known before.  
  
"Excellent point, Draco," said Dumbledore approvingly. "And how would he have known what year he was to have been defeated? I do not think even Lord Voldemort had powers such as that."  
  
Fudge looked uncomfortable. "While I think that the evidence is circumstantial, I do admit that it is most likely that the culprit here is Lord Voldemort, whether or not he was able to foresee his own downfall. He had minions enough to carry out such a plan, even if he himself was unable to."  
  
Draco looked skeptically at him, but before he could say anything, Moody put in, "I think, again, we are ignoring the most important part of this prophecy: the ending. It talks of her becoming the greatest witch of all time if she can break free of whomever has her heart…"  
  
And then slowly but surely, every eye turned to Draco.  
  
And then the door swung open. And there she was, smirking at all of them. She raised her right hand, her palm facing Hermione. Melted bronze dripped from her fingertips. Draco saw Dumbledore lurch to his feet, but the girl had already spoken.  
  
"_Efomarse Anastasia Obliviate Heciso_!" she called. Hermione disappeared with a loud crack and within seconds, so had the girl.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Again, she was gone. Untraceably gone. It was almost too much for the Spencer family, who returned home silent and desolate. Rebecca Spencer was inconsolable. Gone. Again. Just as they'd had her back, she was gone.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The Aurors and Dumbledore knew that there must have been a memory charm attached to the girl's spell, for they could not remember her words. And they knew it must have been an incredibly powerful memory charm, for non of them could break the charm. Not even Dumbledore. It troubled him greatly, for there had never been a spell that he could not undo, particularly a memory charm.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The Grangers had to be escorted out by several Ministry underlings, for Mrs. Granger was still hysterical. Oculin stayed with Dumbledore and the Aurors to assist in any way he could, while Fudge had to leave, he had another meeting. He like Lucius Malfoy demanded to be kept updated. Lucius and Narcissa left for Malfoy Manor, without their children.   
  
Draco and Calabria returned to the hotel. Draco thanked the stars his baby sister knew more about Muggles than he did, for they would never have gotten back there alive. And he was also grateful that Calabria was the ingenious little thing she was, for she had taped the entire Inquest with a magically spelled Muggle tape-recorder. But because it was spelled to work inside places where no Muggle device ought to work, such as the Ministry Headquarters and Hogwarts, the memory charm that the girl had used in conjunction with the spell that took Hermione, affected the recorder. It had not taped the spell, as the Malfoys had hoped.  
  
But it had taped the prophecy, which Draco was intent on figuring out.   
  
The first verse, he thought, was pretty apparent: If she was raised as a witch, she would be able to defeat all evil, if not, evil would prevail over the wizarding world. Second of a strong line Calabria figured out: it meant the second daughter of a family who was old and prominent. She said that that was how You-Know-Who knew who he was looking for.   
  
But they remained stumped as the born in the year triumphant part. Calabria agreed with him that the person who kidnapped Hermione was not You-Know-Who, for he was nothing but a shadow at the time she was kidnapped. And neither of them could understand how they would know which child to take; for born in the year triumphant would have told them which year, which child, but how could You-Know-Who have known he would be defeated that year? And if he did, wouldn't he have done something to stop it?  
  
But they did agree that 'the dark one' was Harry Potter, and that the third verse had nothing to do with Draco.   
  
"How could I possibly be holding her prisoner?" was his answer. "I don't even know where she is."  
  
With that done, they decided to start in the only place they could: with the girl that took her; with Sirena Brown.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
In the darkness, Hermione could see nothing. But she could hear the door when it opened. She had no idea how long she had been in there, but was she ever glad to hear the door make it's slow, scraping journey across the icy stone floor.  
  
"Hermione?" whispered an all too familiar voice.  
  
"Ron?" hissed Hermione back. "Ron, is that you?"  
  
His round, concerned face appeared as he murmured, "Lumos."  
  
Hermione could then see where she was: behind the iron bars of a dungeon cell.   
  
"Hermione! Am I ever glad to see you!" he said, grinning.   
  
"Ron, how did you find me? And where's Draco?" Hermione demanded, as loudly as she dared.  
  
Ron pursed his lips. "Got no idea where Malfoy is. But-er, I, um-well, we thought something may have been up when you took off for the Inquest with Malfoy, so we weren't really surprised when we got an owl from Malfoy's sister saying that you'd been kidnapped again. And I kind of wasn't liking how funny Sirena was acting around you the last few weeks, and so I followed her when she left Hogwarts this afternoon. She didn't notice me, really, and I was surprised. But she came straight here and then I figured you were probably down in the dungeons… seems that these old manors have always got dungeons that they keep locking people up in… and came down here. And here you are." He looked rather pleased with himself.  
  
"But you-you didn't-you and Harry… you came alone? And how did you track her? She spelled me and then I appeared here… I don't understand!" Hermione wailed, being most unlike herself in her anxiety.  
  
"I came alone, because Harry thought I was bonkers chasing after Sirena… he said it was a dead end, but I knew… I knew something was up with her. And all I know was that yesterday, Sirena disappeared for almost the entire day and then came trudging back from Hogsmeade around suppertime, which was when we got the owl from Malfoy's sister. And so, today, I kept an eye on her and when she went down to Hogsmeade and caught a train to London, I followed her. Then she Disapperated once we got to King's Cross, but I figured she was heading for Claymore, the Brown's estate. And I was right."  
  
"She Disapperated?" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
"Yeh, I didn't know she was that advanced. She's definitely not licensed, that's for sure," said Ron, staring intently at the iron bars.  
  
"So… she must have just spelled me here and then Apperated back to London…" Hermione said, watching him fiddle with the lock.  
  
"Got a hairpin?" he asked, suddenly.  
  
She grinned and pulled one from her curls.  
  
He inserted it into the lock and gave it a twist. "I knew there were some advantages to having Fred and George as relatives," he said wryly.  
  
The lock popped open and the door swung creakily on rusty hinges as he pushed it open. Hermione, tired, hungry and grateful, stumbled into her friend's arms. They hugged tightly.  
  
"Thank you for coming for me," she breathed onto his neck.  
  
Even though he was happy to see his best friend again, Ron had never liked open displays of affection. Especially from Hermione, whom he loved dearly. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were bound together by ties of deep, true friendship and had stood by each other through perils and heartache and trouble aplenty. But it was always Ron and Hermione who fretted and worried together over Harry; they had stuck together throughout the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament, when neither could do anything more for their best friend. Hermione and Ron had the special relationship of being the other halves of the great Harry Potter.  
  
"Ok, ok," he said, embarrassed. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"  
  
"Let's!" she agreed heartily. Two days and a night in that cell was more than enough for her, and she knew that Draco and her parents, both sets, would be worried to death about her.  
  
Guided by the light of Ron's wand, they slowly made their way through the old door. They went up a narrow, dark staircase and emerged in the basement, fully stocked with shelves and shelves of gardening tools.   
  
"Apparently, Mrs. Brown was a huge gardener," Ron explained quietly. "I heard Lav say once that when she died, shortly after Sirena was born, Mr. Brown locked all of her things in the basement."  
  
He led her up the stairs to a warmly lit hallway with wood paneling. They crept along silently, and ended up in a den of sorts, with a large, roaring fire in the hearth opposite them. The green velvet curtains were thrown away from floor-to-ceiling windows. Arm chairs and couches, all decorated in green and gold, matched the gold-plated tables and green wall papering. Pictures of Sirena and Lavendar adorned the mantle.  
  
Ron frowned. "This wasn't where this passage came from, Hermione. That hallway led to the kitchens and then out the back door…"  
  
"Is that how you got in?" Hermione grabbed his arm.  
  
"Yeah. I jumped the hedge, which was no mean feat, I'll tell you, and then crept in the back door and down the hall to the basement," he said and shrugged.  
  
"And you knew where the dungeons were? You just knew?" Hermione hissed shrilly, getting more and more tense.  
  
"The dungeons under the Burrow led from the basement," he said, looking at her strangely. "I just thought I'd try there first. All these old houses are the same…" He looked around, trying to find another similarity between this palace and his humble home.  
  
"Did it even occur to you that maybe it was all a little too easy? That maybe there should have been spells protecting the manor? That it was possibly Unplottable, like the Malfoy's Manor?" said Hermione, taking deep breaths now. Being kidnapped again, while she was old enough to realize what was going on, was terrifying and she wanted OUT. She wanted out NOW.  
  
Ron looked at her and then began to eye the room suspiciously.  
  
"Welcome." A deep voice from behind them made them both jump.  
  
They turned to see a man with light brown curly hair, of medium build come towards them.   
  
Ron glared at him and stepped in front of Hermione protectively, wand outstretched. "Who are you?" he demanded.  
  
"Who am I?" asked the man lightly. "This is my home, young man. It is I who should be asking you that question, is it not?"  
  
Ron ignore the question. "What do you want with Hermione?" He fingered the wand in his hand.  
  
The man laughed. "I don't particularly want anything with her, young man. It is my Master and my darling daughter who are interested in what this young lady has to offer. Please sit."  
  
Without warning, he whipped out his wand, and shouted, "Accio wand!" Ron's wand flew to his hands and disappeared up the sleeves of his robes. He directed them to seats with a graceful flick of his wrists. It was no spell, just a gentle reminder than he was a fully educated grown wizard with experience and, as he made a tea tray appear from nowhere, talent.  
  
"Tea?" he offered pleasantly.  
  
Neither Ron nor Hermione took anything, but sat together on a pale green couch. Hermione felt for Ron's hand for reassurance and he squeezed her fingertips. She took a deep breath and with that, a short, balding man strode in, followed by a young girl of about fifteen.   
  
"Ah, Peter. Sirena. Please join us," said the man cordially.  
  
Sirena, dressed in black corduroy jeans and a black cashmere sweater lounged gracefully into a gold armchair opposite the room from Hermione and Ron. Hermione glowered at her, but she seemed not to notice. Her eyes, a deep blue, were fixed on the man, Peter; Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, the right-hand man of Voldemort himself.  
  
The man, who must have been Mr. Brown, sank into a deep green armchair, while Wormtail plopped onto a soft golden couch close to Sirena, shoveling biscuits into his mouth. She sneered at him, but he did not see her.  
  
The man said suddenly, "Well, we're all here, are we not?"  
  
He looked at Sirena and she nodded and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply and when she opened her eyes again, they were a burning, evil red. Ron took in breath sharply and Hermione had to clutch his hand to keep from screaming.  
  
Sirena turned her evil eyes to her father and said, "Our Lord is with us, Father." It was apparent to all the Lord Voldemort was in their presence through the body of Sirena Brown.  
  
Marcus Brown rose and bowed to Sirena. Wormtail rushed to do the same. Then they sat, looking nervous.   
  
Sirena turned to look at Hermione and she felt her insides freeze. This was what total, complete immobilizing fear felt like.  
  
Sirena rasped, "My Lord wishes to know all about you, Anastasia Spencer."  
  
Hermione was too scared to answer.   
  
Ron flicked his eyes towards his best friend, saw that she was in no condition to answer and said, loudly, "What do you want, Sirena?"  
  
Sirena narrowed her eyes slightly. "Be silent, Ronald Weasley. We have no need of you… yet." The threat was subtle, but menacing.  
  
Sirena repeated her question to the terror-frozen Hermione. "Tell us about you, Anastasia. When did you begin to demonstrate? How old were you when you no longer needed a wand to channel your magic?"  
  
Ron nudged Hermione gently and looked at her with pleading in his eyes. She took in a rattling breath and said, "I don't understand. What do you mean, demonstrate? And I've always needed a wand."  
  
Sirena frowned at her and her eyes flicked to a spot on the wall for a moment. The she refocused her eyes on Hermione and said, "My Lord is displeased by your answers, Anastasia. He will get his answers from you one way or another. If you choose to not to cooperate, not only will I Drain you, Anastasia, to get the answers we need, I will torture you to your death." Sirena's now-red eyes burned into Hermione frightened amber ones.   
  
She had never been so out-and-out traumatized in her life. "I don't understand," she pleaded, beginning to cry, "I don't know what you want of me." She turned her head beseechingly towards Mr. Brown.  
  
His face was impassive as stone. "I think you may want to explain what a Draining does to someone, Sirena-Angel," he said smoothly. His eyes danced in a way that made both Hermione and Ron wonder if he'd lost his mind.  
  
Wormtail put in, "Yes, Milady, I do think that we should explain it to her… perhaps then she will see the advantages of telling the truth…" He licked his lips and leaned forward on the couch hungrily.  
  
Hermione's petrified eyes turned to Ron, who clutched her hand as tightly as he could.   
  
Sirena looked at Hermione for a long moment and then said, "When I Drain a person, Anastasia, I enter their minds and sap all of the knowledge that they have accumulated in their lifetime. There are slower, less painful processes by which this can be done, but that takes weeks. In a Draining, I take all of your life-knowledge in a few seconds. A weak person will die as I enter their minds. Most people die during a Draining, but the stronger ones have survived all the way to my withdrawal. Only one person has ever survived a Draining, and they died thirty seconds after I withdrew. Once you have been Drained, I will possess any knowledge you have now, any feelings you have I will know about, anything you have experienced will become a part of my memory. Now, Anastasia, you being The Chosen One, are not expected to die. You are the strongest witch ever to live. However, my Lord and I shall be severely displeased if I am forced to Drain you. Once I have Drained you, there will be no use for you anymore… and I will have to dispose of you as my Master wishes. But if you tell us all you know about your capabilities, Anastasia, there will be no reason to Drain you…" Her eyes bored in Hermione's.  
  
Hermione was now so thoroughly frightened she could not speak.   
  
After a long pause, Sirena nodded and said, "So be it, Anastasia Spencer. You shall be Drained… pray that you do not survive, for you will die a far more painful death at my hands than you would through a Draining."  
  
And she stood. And reached out her hand so quickly, it was almost impossible to see. A thin, silvery strand flew from her temple across the room.  
  
Ron lunged to cover Hermione, to protect his dearest friend, but he feared he was too late to save her.  
  
The sound of shattering glass rang about the room as Draco Malfoy came flying in through the window.  
  
He saw Sirena Brown, a wisp of silvery thread just flying back into her temple. He saw her father standing, looking shocked. He saw a short, balding, rat-faced man standing beside Sirena, looking gleeful.  
  
And he saw two bodies on the couch that they were staring at.   
  
One was alive.  
  
The other was not.  
  
  
All your life is such a shame…  
You don't want to waste your life…  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N:  
  
  
Please don't hate me! I promise that it'll be OK!!! Lots of plot development in this chapter, ya'll have waited long enough for it! More to come ASAP!  
  
Thanks to D and sakura for lifting my spirits.  



	8. Perfect Blue Buildings

A/N: 

*To everyone who has reviewed, I can't say THANK YOU enough. 

*Special thanks to helly, sakura, and D. 

*I can't help but think I ought to thank D again, just because without her, the last oh, _three_ chapters would not be accessible to anyone but me. I haven't told anyone to read her stories in a few days, so here goes: READ HER STORIES: SHE WRITES AS **DRACODEW17**. In my personal opinion, "Return to Eden" is the best story on FF.net, second best on schnoogle (after the Draco Series by Cassie Claire, to whom thanks in also owed). Another fabulous story that will have you in stitches is "Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing… Rat?" by Maya, found on schnoogle.

*I said that I'd make everything ok… is this better? Um, don't read this chapter or any of the ones to come if you are A) a die-hard D/Hm fan and you read nothing else and you kill people who don't stick to that original idea, because I'm still majorly unsure of the direction this story is going in… B) attached in any way, shape, or form to Ron or C) are not willing to give poor Sirena a chance (::cough:: D ::cough::)

CHAPTER EIGHT

*****************

Perfect Blue Buildings

*****************

_…I got friends who care for me_

_You got an attitude of everything I ever wanted_

_I got an attitude of need_

_Help me stay awake…_

_It doesn't get much worse than this_

_In beds in little rooms in buildings in the middle_

_Of lives that are completely meaningless_

_Help me stay awake…_

_I'm falling…_

_~Counting Crows_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**(Tuesday, 6 January, 1997)**

After a long pause, Sirena nodded and said, "So be it, Anastasia Spencer. You shall be Drained… pray that you do not survive, for you will die a far more painful death at my hands than you would through a Draining."

And she stood. And reached out her hand so quickly, it was almost impossible to see. A thin, silvery strand flew from her temple across the room.

Ron lunged to cover Hermione, to protect his dearest friend, but he feared he was too late to save her.

The sound of shattering glass rang about the room as Draco Malfoy came flying in through the window.

He saw Sirena Brown, a wisp of silvery thread just flying back into her temple. He saw her father standing, looking shocked. He saw a short, balding, rat-faced man standing beside Sirena, looking gleeful.

And he saw two bodies on the couch that they were staring at. 

One was alive.

The other was not.

And she screamed. 

Draco's wand tip pointed at Sirena Brown, whose deep, powerful eyes were blue once more.  She laughed, and as she did so, something behind her eyes flickered. She gave Draco a pleading look and then her eyes returned to their normal coldness.

Draco's wand flew from his hand. It snapped in midair and Sirena Brown's expressive eyes took on a triumphant gleam.

Draco didn't pause to think. He just grabbed Hermione and threw her out of the broken window that he had come crashing through. And as he hurtled himself out as well, he heard Marcus Brown, Sirena's father, snap, "What are you waiting for, Sirena? Bring them back immediately!"

Draco picked up a stunned and shaken Hermione and forced her to stand. 

"Run," he said, shortly. He grabbed her hand and they took off down the lawn.

They didn't hear Marcus Brown's howl of pain or Sirena's voice screaming, "Draco! Hermione!" 

They got to the gate, where a breathless Calabria awaited them. She handed them a broom and Draco sat Hermione, who was trembling, on his broom, put his arm around her waist, and kicked off alongside his sister. They flew over the protective spells around the castle and away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Wormtail grabbed Sirena around the waist and pulled her back into the mansion. She had been climbing out of the window, screaming for Draco and Hermione at the top of her lungs. He hit her sharply across the face with his heavy hand and she stopped screaming. She threw out a hand to cast a spell at him, but he knocked her down with another blow.

Marcus Brown recovered himself and stood. "That was somewhat excessive, Peter," he said, eyeing his younger daughter. 

Wormtail sneered. "You like the Cruciatus Curse, then? `At's what she would have kept up had I not knocked her out."

Marcus sighed. "I know." He moved his arms slowly and stretched his legs. Even a few minutes under the Cruciatus curse was hard on his already exhausted body. Sirena knew this, he supposed, and that was why she did it. She was getting stronger.

He rubbed his eyes and Wormtail noticed uneasily how weary he looked. 

"Take her upstairs, then, Peter. I'll contact My Lord."

Wormtail nodded and did as Marcus Brown bid him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(Wednesday, 7 January, 1997) 

It was hard to see her like this.

It was always hard for him to see someone grieving, and he was coming to realize that she was beyond grief. She was even beyond the real world now. And he felt that he could do nothing to help her.

In the beginning, she had screamed and yelled and told him that it was entirely his fault; that he had done this. And she had cried, racking sobs that shook her entire body. He supposed that some of it was his fault; not the actual killing, but taking her from the place of the murder before she was ready, without asking.

She beat her fists, her tiny delicate fists, against him, howling her despair for the entire world to hear. Nothing would or could console her.

He had taken her back to her parents' house. In hindsight, he realized that he shouldn't have. She had never been there before, only even met these people once before, and was in no condition to be with them now. But he had taken her there, grieving as she was, and carried her straight up to her bedroom. 

Brie said he had done the right thing. But he wasn't sure. For perhaps the third time in his life, he was completely unsure that what he had done was right, for she seemed so lost, so gone.

She lay on the bed, shaking with pain and despair. 

And so Draco Malfoy did the hardest thing he had ever done in his life.

He owled Harry Potter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry Potter, as it turned out, was still looking for her. He and Ginny had been searching everywhere they thought a kidnapper might take Hermione, although they honestly had no idea where that would be. Neither of them had ever been kidnapped before, exactly. Ginny was worried sick about both Hermione and her brother, but Harry was sure Ron could take care of himself, even if he was chasing a dead end.

They were in the midst of scanning a map of Diagon Alley in the Great Hall when the owl from Draco slammed into the window forcefully, demanding to be let in. It was the same owl as had delivered that fateful letter to Hermione to tell her of her parentage less than one month ago.

They let it in, hurriedly. The great owl snapped at Ginny yet again, but dropped the letter close to her. It took off scornfully with a flap of its powerful wings. 

The letter was addressed to Harry, and he opened it.

"Potter~ 

_I've found Hermione. Come to Claymore as soon as is possible; she's in quite a state. Broomstick is fastest, I suppose, since you cannot Apparate. Do **not** bring the Weasley girl: send her home to her mother. No, Potter, don't even think that you'll bring her along anyway; you want to send her home to her mother. Trust me, for once, Potter, I know what I'm saying. If you promise to keep it to yourself, whisper "**Claros**," at this parchment and it will tell you what it is not my place to say."_

Harry immediately hissed "_Claros_," at the parchment and was rewarded with the picture of Sirena Brown's sitting room as Draco had seen it upon bursting in through the window. Hermione lay white and shaking, underneath a corpse. A perfectly unmarked corpse. He would have thought the body was just sleeping, but for the scream that sounded in his head: the sound that Draco had heard when his eyes met this horror. 

Ron Weasley lay dead on the couch, shielding Hermione from whatever had attacked her. Whatever had _tried_ to attack her, for Ron's bravery and loyalty had foiled its plan quite obviously.

Harry Potter began to shake as Hermione had. 

_Ron_, his mind whispered. _Ron is dead. _His mind went completely blank, save the words ran through his head, over and over and over again. _Ron…Ron is dead…_

Somehow, he managed to turn back to Draco's letter.

_"My regrets, Potter. Truly I send my honest regrets. He saved her, you know. His life for hers; and he will always be remembered as a hero. And I promise you, Potter: for Hermione, I will help you avenge him._

_Come to Claymore, Potter. Don't bring Weasley's sister. Don't let her find out this way. Let her mother tell her, for God's sake. Earl Spencer has sent the Weasleys an owl as well._

_~D. L. Malfoy." _

Harry had ripped the letter to shreds before he knew what he was doing. He had to get to Hermione. She would know… she could… she was always the strong one. _Oh, god… Ron…_

Ginny was afraid when Harry began to cry. But she became terrified when he sent her to fetch Professor Dumbledore, who came at once. He looked grim and Ginny wondered what he knew that she didn't and what on earth was going on at all.

"Professor," Harry acknowledged his Headmaster with a quick bow of his head. "Would you see to Ginny, please?"

Professor Dumbledore, having received a similar owl from Draco only moments earlier, nodded, as Harry clutched the  Firebolt Dumbledore had brought to him. 

Harry looked at Ginny quickly and his eyes began to fog over again. He brushed at them angrily. 

"Thanks, Professor." His voice was curt in his pain, but Dumbledore understood what he was going through and said nothing.

With that, Harry strode through the Great Hall doors and mounted his broom. He took off, flying faster than he ever had before in his life. Within seconds, Ginny could no longer see him.

Professor Dumbledore leaned in and said into Ginny's ear, "Don't worry, my dear. He just needs some time alone now, as you will. Let's pack you off to your parents, shall we? And I believe it would best for us all if we, hum… did not reopen Hogwarts on Monday, as we had planned. I hardly think four days will remedy this."

Ginny turned, confused, but then saw that Professor McGonagall stood behind her Headmaster and it was to her those last sentences were directed.

She furrowed her brow as McGonagall gazed sadly at her. For a fleeting moment, she thought that Hermione must be dead. Then, why was Professor Dumbledore so intent on getting her back to the Burrow? It didn't make sense. Hermione couldn't be dead… maybe they had caught the kidnapper. Yes! Yes, that must be it! But somehow, something inside her told her that no, the kidnapper had not been found…

_I do wonder… what is going on?_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The cold wind made his eyes stream, he told himself. In reality, he was shaking with sorrow, his eyes flowing by themselves. _How can this be?_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was sleeping now. It was better when she slept; she didn't cry as hard in her sleep as she did when she was awake. Charles and Rebecca Spencer, her parents, trusted the young Malfoy boy enough to heed his advice and not come near their daughter. In fact, they were so grateful to him for retrieving her as quickly as he did that they would have done anything he asked. He told them simply that a very dear friend of hers was killed before her eyes and that she would need some time to get over the death. They accepted that; though all they wanted to do, really, was hold her. This, after all, was their lost baby. They hadn't seen her in years and to have her underneath their roof, but be unable to see her was hard on both of them. It was even hard to keep from hovering about the doorway to her bedroom.

The eldest Spencer daughter, Victoria, was worried about her little sister, but she could not bear staying in that house any longer. Claymore was becoming a madhouse of activity with the arrival of Izzy's little friend Brie and her older brother, Draco, with Anna. Her parents had immediately gone into full action and hauled the three up to Anna's new room, where Anna still was. As a matter of fact, she hadn't left the confines of those walls in almost 24 hours. And that didn't help her parents, who were already worried about her. Anna being neurotic like that … it was just strange. 

Victoria had no idea why she wouldn't come out. Her parents lurked around the door taking orders from the very handsome Draco Malfoy, while her sisters Izzy and Alex (and Draco's sister, Brie) went off by themselves. That left Victoria alone. And so she left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brett Palmer was in the sitting room of Campion House, his primary residence, when the doorbell rang. And then it rang again. On the third ring, he sighed and hauled himself from his chair. He strode to the door, wondering where on earth the servants had got to. 

He was puzzled to see his stunningly beautiful girlfriend, looking exhausted, standing on his doorstep. The last he'd heard, all of her family had been anxiously awaiting news as to her sister, Anna, was had been kidnapped again.

"Oh, Brett! It's simply awful! The house has gone to pieces completely!" she sighed dramatically and fell into his arms. 

"Victoria, love, what is going on? Have they found your sister?" he asked, enveloping her in his arms.

She twined arms around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder. "Yes, the Malfoys found her."

He pulled back to look at her. "Darling, that's wonderful! Your long-lost sister, safe at home!" Then seeing the look on her face, he said, kindly, "What's wrong, V?"

Victoria sighed exasperatedly. "There's something wrong with her, Brett. She came home with the Malfoys and then… she disappeared into her room! She hasn't even come out of her room yet, and she been home for almost 2 days! Mum and Daddy hover about like something's up, but I've no idea what's going on. The little ones are all banding together and I feel so lost! Lost and trapped. So I came here to get away."

Brett held his darling a few more minutes and then they went into the sitting room. "Love, why don't we go back to Claymore and I'll speak with your parents. I don't think they've realized they've kept you in the dark. They couldn't possibly have."

She sighed and let her head drop into her hands. "Perhaps that is best. But I don't know. I feel like I'm intruding on something. That if they'd wanted me to know, they would have told me."

Brett opened his mouth to say what was on his mind, but another young man came in, a cup of tea in one hand, a scone in the other.

"Hullo, lad! Victoria, darling!" He set the tea and scone down and Victoria rose from her seat to embrace him. She smiled up into his handsome face and he winked at her. She dropped back onto the sofa and he chose a seat next to Brett.

"Cal!" she said smiling. "I didn't know you were in town."

"Just got in this morning, love," he said, his rolling Scottish accent a pleasure to the ears. "Cousin Brett here was ever so kind to invite me up for the month."

He grinned at Brett. They weren't really cousins; Brett's mother was now married to Cal's uncle. Brett was fond of saying that they were only step-cousins…_in-law_. No relation, thank you very much. Aside from their almost-kin relationship, they were the best of friends, though Cal's main residence was in Edinburgh.

Victoria smiled at Brett as he turned to Cal. "Hey, Cal, we're headed to Claymore. Tag along?"

Cal raised an eyebrow. "Visit the infamous Claymore? I should be so lucky." He deserted his scone and tea and joined his "cousin" and Victoria on broomstick to her manor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry arrived at Claymore quietly and Draco shuffled him to her room with the Spencers being any the wiser. 

And though he came in search of comfort, he would find none here.

She slept still, but he could see the tear tracks down her cheeks. She was curled tightly around herself, arms cuddled to her chest as if to protect herself. She cried out for Ron, and in that moment, he knew that he could not help her; and she could do nothing for him. Even being together would not ease this pain. Perhaps what he needed was time alone.

And so he left her room as silently as he had entered it. And from the look on Draco's face, he knew that the blond boy understood. There was no one who could help Hermione now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When they arrived at Claymore, they were actually greeted by Rebecca Spencer. 

"Hello, love, yes I got your note. Hello, Brett, and my! Cal! Lovely to see you, dear!" she smiled tiredly at the boys.

"Good afternoon, Countess," said Cal, his eyes twinkling. Cal was Muggle-born; however, both his parents had siblings that were wizards. He knew Rebecca Spencer as the wife of a Muggle socialite, the wife of Earl Spencer, as well as the mother of his favorite cousin's girlfriend.

She ushered them into the sitting room, where there was a fresh pot of tea brewing. They made polite conversation for a few minutes, and then Victoria looked anxiously at Brett, pleading silently with him to ask her mother what was going on with Anna.

"Countess?" asked Brett, who had also taken to address Victoria's mother by her Muggle titles. "Have you found Anastasia yet?"

Both Cal and Rebecca started. 

"You've had leads as to Anastasia?" he asked as Rebecca simultaneously said, "Victoria hasn't told you?"

They looked at each other for a moment and then Cal said, "Please, do explain, Countess."

And so she explained.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She awoke to Draco sitting in an armchair, gazing out the window. She took a brief moment to appreciate the way his blond hair swept across his forehead gracefully and the way his gray eyes could seem warm and ice-cold at exactly the same time. She loved the way he could fold up inside a chair and still manage to look regal. He was so different from any other man she'd ever loved.

She'd loved her father, before he broke her heart by trying to force her to come back to the Muggle world.

She'd loved Harry, for his bravery, his loyalty, his friendship.

And she'd loved Ron… Ron… oh, God… Ron…

And she began to cry yet again. 

The sound of soft crying drew Draco's attention away from the window that he wasn't really seeing. He looked at Hermione, huddled on the bed sobbing her little heart out and felt full of pity for her. He knew that once Potter was through grieving for his best friend, he would turn to rage. And as much as Draco wanted to loathe Sirena Brown for all the misery she had brought to him, there was something about that look in her eyes, that brief flickering of something when she had looked at him. He was bothered by whatever it had been. And if not only for that, he wanted to find her.

He wanted to find out what was behind her eyes. He wanted to know what had caused her to kill Ron Weasley. He wanted to know what it was that she wanted with Hermione Granger. And he was going to find her. He couldn't take too much more of this waiting-around-for-Hermione-to-resume-life. He needed to find Sirena Brown, and he needed to find her now.

And just as he stretched and stood, the door opened and Hermione's sister, Victoria, entered, two boys behind her.

He knew one of them was Brett Palmer, whose mother was a friend of the family's. Brett had attended Beauxbatons Academy, as had Victoria, who now stood behind him, fluttering her hands anxiously.

Behind both of them stood a taller boy, about two years older than Draco, with light brown hair and very light blue eyes that seemed the color of the clouds. His face was strong and his eyes every bit as intense as Draco's.

Suddenly, Draco relaxed. He could trust Victoria to look after Hermione while he was away.

"Victoria," he said lowly. 

"Is she alright?" Victoria whispered fearfully. She gripped the hand of Palmer, who recognized and nodded to him. 

"No, she's still a bit…" Draco paused. "…er…touch and go. But I've got a few things I need to take care of. I'd be obliged if you'd stay with her… have someone be with her at all times, just until I get back."

He looked searchingly into her eyes and she replied without even blinking, "Of course, of course, Draco. But please hurry."

He smiled wryly. There wasn't much in this world he wouldn't do for Hermione now, and being with her was important. He knew that as soon as he had found Sirena Brown and she answered his questions, Draco Lucius Malfoy would be back where he belonged: alongside his Hermione. 

But "I'll do my best," was all he said, with a curt nod to the other two.

With one last sad look at the lump of Hermione on the bed, he left, cloak swishing behind him dramatically.

Victoria and Brett crept cautiously to her sister's bedside, but Hermione did not stir. She was too far gone into her pain.

Cal gazed at Hermione from a distance, not wanting to disturb the moment Victoria was having with her sister. He watched her curiously, knowing, for the first time, that someone else could feel as much pain as he once had. Because once, not so long ago, he had looked just as Anastasia Spencer did now. 

He knew. And if anyone could help her, it was he alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N:

            Ha! Cliffhanger, once again! Ok, apologies for the lateness, (I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so so sorry) and for those of you who are terribly confused, a quick recap of what's been going on in Long December.

Ahem.

CHAPTER ONE: saw Draco, returned from a term (semester) in America and realizing that he could no longer be prejudiced to others, having experienced it himself. Draco also made civilized conversation with the hated Hermione Granger, who hoped to soon escape her Muggle parents (who were trying to convince her to give up the wizarding world.) They made an uneasy sort of peace, but Hermione couldn't deny that Draco Malfoy simply took her breath away. Little did she know, the feelings were mutual.

CHAPTER TWO: found Hermione and Draco having a bit of a moment in the Great Hall and Harry being an absolute prick about it. Harry gets pissed at Draco, Draco does a little ass-kicking, and then Hermione body-binds ole Scarface and she and Draco go in to dinner. Ginny's all-grown-up and comes to Harry's rescue, seeing as it's winter holiday and there's almost no one around the castle. She frees Harry from the curse and realizes that not only was he being a prick about Hermione, but he'd also been an absolute fool over Ginny. They kiss, and Ron, Parvati, Lavendar, Lavendar's sister, Hermione and Draco all kind of walk in on them (well, they WERE kissing in the middle of the Great Hall, after all!)

CHAPTER THREE: contains Harry, Ron, and Draco making and uneasy truce, while Hermione and Draco get closer. Draco whines about the decoration when he is invited to the Gryffindor common room for a scintillating game of Spin the Bottle. Mayhem ensues (think Draco, Ron, kiss) and Lavendar and Parvati come out (as in yes, they are lesbians.) Hermione gets an owl from Pierce Oculin, a Ministry Official, stating that she is not really Hermione Granger, but, in fact, the daughter of the oldest wizarding family, the Spencers. The Spencer's daughter was kidnapped years ago and they think that somehow, Hermione may be their child. Hermione's Muggle parents receive a similar letter and freak out, because they never told Mione that she was adopted. 

CHAPTER FOUR: Mione begins to deal with the letter from the Ministry, while Harry and Draco put aside their 'differences' and vow never to let Mione be hurt. We learn the depths of Draco's feelings for Hermione and Harry and Ginny become an official couple. All go to Hogsmeade for New Year's. While on a moonlit stroll, Draco explains some of the history of Mione's family which is as follows: 

*Mione's grandfather (her father's father) was Minister of Magic before Fudge

*Her father is set to be next Minister of Magic

*Her mother was Muggle-born and the best of friends with Lily Evans

*Father: Charles Spencer, pecan-colored hair, green eyes

*Mother: Rebecca Spencer, honey-colored hair, amber eyes

*She has 3 sisters:        Victoria, 19, pecan-colored long straight hair, amber eyes

                                    Isabella, 10, honey-colored short curly hair, green eyes

                                    Alexandra, 7, chocolate-colored chin-length straight hair, green eyes

We learn that Draco has a sister, Calabria. Draco and Mione cuddle and celebrate New Year's by spending a chaste night in the same bed.

CHAPTER FIVE: Hermione prepares to leave for the Ministry Inquest that would give her great insight into her family, etc. Draco offers to go with her, and she accepts. Hermione meets Helly, Draco's house-elf, who gives her more insight to the real Draco Malfoy. (We also find out that Draco's real true love is coffee) Ginny reassures Hermione that her parents will love her, while she worries not only about the Spencers, but her Muggle-parents as well. Draco talks about his family as well, and the relationships he has with them. They see Sirena Brown outside of a café in London.

CHAPTER SIX: We finally meet Charles and Rebecca Spencer and their three daughters, who are on their way to the Inquest. Paul and Anne Granger also prepare for the Inquest. The three daughters are described in more detail and we learn Hermione's birth name was Anastasia Colette. The three daughters read from a family history book about the origins of their names. Back in London, Draco forces Hermione to go back to the hotel without Sirena Brown noticing and explains to her that he thinks Sirena is following them. Mione dismisses his conspiracy theory, but Draco remains unsure. People begin to assemble at the Inquest: the Grangers arrive first, then the Malfoys, the Spencers, Dumbledore, Moody, an Unmentionable, and three Aurors. Draco and Hermione arrive late to the Inquest.

CHAPTER SEVEN: A mysterious woman kills Ministry officials to kidnap Hermione from the Inquest and Calabria and Draco team up to rescue her. We see the Inquest in a flashback: Pierce Oculin, the Ministry official, makes introductions. He then gives them the Official Ministry report on what happened, which doesn't explain much. Dumbledore then performs a blood-line spell on the Spencers to determine if Mione is their daughter, which she is. They all argue about the letter sent to the Ministry that led them to believe that Mione was a Spencer which said : 

_hermione spencer lost one undo darkness defeat evil_

and a prophecy that the Aurors think is connected with Mione's kidnapping which says:

_"Raised a witch, will undo dark_

_Raised apart, will fall_

_Second of a strong line_

_May conquer evil all_

_Born in year triumphant_

Lost to darker lands 

_May return to walk the light_

_If dark one by her stands_

_The greatest witch to ever live_

_If she can break free_

_From he who holds her prisoner_

In her heart is he 

Then Mione is kidnapped from the Inquest. All part ways, including the Malfoy children, who return to the hotel and try to figure out the true meaning of the prophecy before they proceed. They can only understand part of it and decide to wait until Hermione is recovered before attempting the rest of it. They reveal that Sirena Brown was the woman who kidnapped Hermione from the Inquest (Sirena is Lavendar's younger sister). Ron, after getting an owl from Calabria, goes to the Brown's manor to look for Mione and finds her in the dungeons. They make it out of the dungeons and up into the sitting room before they realize that they were set up. Sirena Brown, her father, Marcus, and Peter "Wormtail/Scabbers" Pettigrew. Sirena become Voldie's vessel, and she explains what a "Draining" is. Mione is adamant that she is not the Chosen One, and that she has no special powers. Sirena attempts to Drain Hermione, and at the same time,  Ron lunges in front of Mione to protect her. Draco comes crashing in through the window at exactly the same moment.

HOPE THAT HELPS… SORRY AGAIN ABOUT THE DELAY IN UPDATING. NO IDEA WHEN I'LL BE ABLE TO POST CHAPTER NINE, THOUGH I PROMISE TO START WORKING ON IT. LOVE AND KISSES TO ALL REVIEWERS.

Another note: I'll post explanations to both Adam's Story and Sirena's Story ASAP, as well, since so many people have asked for them. Thanx for reading those, too! If you haven't read them yet, you ought to, cause they're really helpful. 


	9. Time and Time Again

_(Small A/N: This is a revised version.)_

**1990**

Calvin Thomas McGregor was afraid. He'd told his friends that he wanted nothing to do with this, but they laughed at him and shouted at him and cajoled him and he had finally given in. And so they went up to his room. There were muffled giggles and hurried whispers about techniques, but in the end, the match was struck and the cigarette, stolen from Kieran's brother, was lit. Each boy took a turn and they all coughed from the smoke until Paddy put it out.

Then their normal, boyish, lightheartedness came back and they went outside to the great tree that sprawled over the front yard. The overgrown grass that spread from underneath the tree was badly in need of a trim. It ran right up to that dreaded sign. The sign that read: **Belwicket Orphanage For Abandoned Children**.

All of the children that lived there loathed that sign, Cal included. He particularly hated it because, to him, it meant that he had been abandoned. Which was not true. His mother was dead, for sure, and his father disappeared many years ago, but he was not abandoned. He had Clara.

Clara McGregor was a tall, willowy girl of seventeen, who had had more than enough grief in her short years. She had suffered through having a magician of sorts for a father (Clara thought his magical disappearing act was less than impressive) and a mother who, as far as Clara was concerned, had given up on life and her children by dying. And to top it off, both of them had been Muggles. The only thing the elder McGregors had passed on to their children was a genetic inclination towards magic. Both of them had siblings that were magical, and so it was no surprise that their children were a witch and wizard. Unfortunately, after Clara and Cal's father left, their mother abandoned every hope, including the desire that her children be schooled in magic. So although they were both accepted into Hogwarts when their time came, neither of them went. Cal's letter came two months before his mother died and they were forced to live out on the streets.

But it wasn't that Clara was incapable of handling herself and Cal. Oh, no. Quite the opposite. They would have gotten on fine by themselves had Cal not been picked up for truancy and then discovered to be homeless. And Clara would have managed very well if the two had not been immediately sent to this prison of a Muggle orphanage.

And they would have been there until Calvin's eighteenth birthday if Clara had not been sneaking out, looking for information. Looking, she called it. Spying, hiding, creeping about, and lying straight out to the person she cared most about in the world was what it really was.

Clara had been looking for their father.

What she found was their uncle. Their uncle, who was a wizard.

**

* * *

**

**1997**

_I wanted so badly_

_Somebody other than me_

_Staring back at me_

_But you were gone…_

Victoria, strong as she thought she was, had to leave the room after an hour. Her sister's crumpled form on the bed was too much for her to handle. The unresponsiveness hurt her, the constant sobbing strained her, but it was Hermione's intermittent periods of rage that drove her sister from the room.

The rage had positively frightened Victoria's long-time boyfriend, Brett Palmer. The two had fled together, leaving Hermione alone with the third person who had come in with them. His sandy-brown hair glinted in the sunlight that streamed in through the window. She turned her anger towards him and his blue eyes met her amber ones defiantly.

"Why? Why did he do it?" she demanded of him shrilly, rising from her cocoon of sheets. Tears rolled down her face. He could see that she was beautiful, even when she cried. The tears glistened on her cheek and her amber eyes were bright with pain. Her arms hung limp at her sides and she stood on shaky legs.

"How could he?" she screamed. Cal searched her eyes with his, probing into her fury.

"How could he even think that he could save me from that place?" She began to speak rapidly, her words coming out so fast, they blurred together slightly. "What was he thinking even going there? He was never a great wizard, yet he was the best, most loyal, deepest, and truest… Harry never knew and then, always knew… and HER. How could she… take away… murderess…"

Cal could only hear a few words as her rage fizzled out and she muttered to herself.

Then she screamed out, sending her fury out through her voice. She beat her fists against him and cried. He could hear, through the sobs, "He should never have taken me away from Ron… I shall never forgive him…"

And, though she fought him, he enveloped her in his arms and held her tightly against him. Ten minutes passed until she no longer hit him and merely cried her eyes dry.

When she had cried her last tear, a wave of exhaustion hit her like never before. She knew that she had done nothing but sleep and cry for God only knew how long, but she was just so tired…

But…

"Who are you?" she asked sleepily as he gently picked her up and laid her on her bed.

"My name is Cal McGregor," he whispered as he tucked her into bed. "Sleep, Anastasia. Sleep and be at peace."

_So when are you coming home Sweet angel?_

_You leaving me alone?_

_All alone?_

* * *

He flew. He was exhausted, but he flew. He flew because he had nowhere to go. Hogwarts was closed, Hermione in shambles, and the Burrow… no. He couldn't face the Weasleys now. Especially Ginny.

How could he? He as much as killed their son and brother.

"Do what you like, but you're wrong," he had said. "You're wrong and all you're doing is wasting time."

Ron had frowned at him then and said, "Any lead should be followed, Harry… any clue. Mione's worth it."

Harry had rolled his eyes and turned away from his best friend, saying, "There's no way, Ron. Give it up."

His last words to his best friend were: "There is no way Sirena Brown kidnapped Hermione."

Suddenly, Harry James Potter was filled with purpose.

He would seek out Sirena Brown. And he would destroy her.

* * *

He flew. But he had a purpose. And it was not to destroy Sirena Brown.

All Draco Lucius Malfoy wanted to know was _Why?_

Why did she kidnap his Hermione?

Why did she kill Ron Weasley?

_Why?_

He sighed dramatically and pushed a bit of hair out of his face. He was flying so quickly that his gorgeous blond locks were becoming ruffled. It was a true sign of devotion when he intentionally allowed his hair to become less than perfect for a woman. It was truly selfless of him.

He knew he shouldn't say that, though. The really selfless person was the one whose corpse was strewn upon Sirena Brown's couch two days past. Today was the 8th day of January, the year of 1997. It had been a mere two days since that redheaded idiot had saved Draco's love. And try as he might to sneer at the Weasleys, their son had kept alive the most precious thing in the world to Draco. He would never be able to repay them for Ron's ultimate sacrifice.

But he would try to find out what on earth was going on, as much as he hated to admit that he, Draco Lucius Malfoy, was confused. There was Hermione, kidnapped at an early age, then found by the Ministry thanks to a mysterious scrap of paper that had linked her name to the Spencers, and to a prophecy. A prophecy that he could not, for the life of him, figure out.

Draco hated being confused. Malfoys, he told himself, are never confused. They may appear to be confused, but inside, they had everything already worked out. This confusion thing, he thought, was SO not him.

Almost without noticing, he flew over the protective spells that closed off Brown Manor. He could tell that these spells were done by an amateur, probably Marcus Brown himself. Draco had always known that Marcus Brown was nothing if not incompetent.

He landed silently.

His Firebolt went against a tree, underneath four masking spells. He was taking no chances.

Draco smiled as he pulled his Invisibility Cloak from his Bottomless Backpack. He threw it about himself and proceeded to cross the garden unimpeded. He _knew_ Marcus Brown was a fool.

"_Wingarmeo Leviosa_," he hissed, and swish-and-flicking his wand in a well-practiced movement. He rose, silently and rather quickly to be level with the second floor windows. The window directly above the front door was open and he soundlessly glided through it.

The room turned out to be the sitting room of what could have passed as a hotel penthouse. The door to the bedroom was shut and the doorway to the adjacent office showed it to be empty.

He cautiously approached the bedroom door, listening intently. He felt rather than guessed that this was, in fact, Sirena Brown's room.

He tried the doorknob. Locked. _Hello,_ he said to himself, _Did you really think that it would be as easy as all that?_

After several whispered attempts to unlock it magically, he considered the doorknob for a moment and then removed a set of lock picks from his Bottomless Backpack.

It was so beneath a Malfoy to resort to this _Muggle_ form of undoing a lock, but then, Marcus Brown wasn't the brightest light bulb around, so what could he expect?

He was totally unsurprised when, after a few seconds work with a lock pick, it popped open.

There she was, short red curls splayed behind her as she lay on the bed. She was unconscious, and it looked as though she had been thrown upon the bed carelessly. One leg hung off the bed, limply, and her arms were trapped beneath her slight frame.

Draco moved silently around the bed and made sure that her eyes were firmly shut before casting the spell he had come to love dearly over the past year. The spell kept anyone- _anyone_- from entering the room or hearing anything coming from it. Very well used spell that was.

And then Draco Malfoy summed up all the courage he had in his lithe, sexy body and woke Sirena Brown up.

* * *

Hermione awoke to the voice of someone singing. A man whose accent rolled pleasantly across her. His voice was soft, caressing.

_Down in some lonely valley, in some lonesome place_

_Where the wild birds do whistle and their notes do increase_

_Farewell, Pretty Saro, I'll bid you adieu_

He noticed that she was awake and stopped singing. His tan cheeks turned pink.

"Did I wake you?" he said softly.

Hermione didn't recognize where she was, or even who this man was, but she sat up and smiled.

"Not at all." Her hand moved to her hair, which, she was sure, was sticking out at all the wrong angles.

He smiled back at her, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth.

Hermione blushed a bit and then asked, "I'm sorry. I don't remember your name…"

His smiled turned sad and then he said, "Anastasia, do you not remember where you are and how you came to be here?"

Her brow furrowed. He saw her look around the room carefully. Then her gaze fell back onto his face, onto his sandy hair and clear blue eyes.

Tears pricked in her eyes. "Ron?" she whispered. "Is he really… gone? Wasn't that just… just a dream?"

He rose from his seat and sat on the bed next to her. She seized his hand and said, "Tell me."

And so he did. She remained oddly calm, withdrawing her hand almost mechanically; her only movement was to fiddle with the edge of the bedspread.

A lengthy silence stretched between them.

Then she whispered, "It is my fault, then? That he died, I mean…"

Cal looked at her, taking in her bedraggled appearance and remembering what it felt like to have someone you loved dearly die for you. The pain, he remembered, tore at you in a million different ways, the guilt washed over you as if you were drowning, and you felt as if nothing would ever be right again.

Hermione felt exactly those things, and knew that it was her fault.

"No." Cal's voice was sure, steady. He sounded confident. "It's not."

She hadn't thought there were any more tears in her, but as she felt them run down her face, she knew that was not so.

"It's not your fault that you were kidnapped, Anastasia. It is possibly not even the kidnapper's fault. The person that killed your friend, that is who is at fault. It is even possible, love, that that person may have had… special circumstances. We may never know exactly why."

"What do you mean?" Hermione demanded. "The person that kidnapped me was the same that killed Ron! And what on earth do you mean by 'special circumstances'?"

Cal smiled kindly. "I can tell you a story, Anastasia, that may make you feel better about what has happened to you.

"There once was a small boy, of perhaps twelve years old, who lived in an orphanage. His friends had persuaded him to smoke a cigarette, all by himself, just once. They had all smoked a few fags (see A/N) together before, but this was a dare. And dares, in this crowd, were to be taken seriously."

He smiled at Hermione slightly and she smiled back, knowingly.

"And so he did..."

**

* * *

**

**1990**

"Help!" he screamed out the window. Thick, black smoke billowed out of the window behind him. "Help!!!"

Clara, his sister, was also screaming, but she was on the ground, being held back by the firefighters whose partners were inside the orphanage trying to get to Cal. Clara fought against them, struggling desperately.

Cal, in the window, wondered how it had come to this. He'd dropped that dare-fag and it had ignited the wooden floor. All the boys: Kieran, Paddy, Shea, Dom, and Luke had all fled, but Cal had tripped over books on his way out of the room and hit his head on the heater. Unconscious for barely two minutes, he'd awoken to find the entire room, walls, floor, and ceiling, alight in flame. And it was spreading. As he stumbled out into the hallway, he noticed that not only was his room on fire, but the entire floor was. He'd tried to go down the stairs, but the fire was already there.

Cal had dashed into the clearest room he could find, opened the window, and began to scream for help.

Clara, having helped evacuate all the children, noticed her brother was gone about ten seconds before he began to screech out the window.

And now there was only a fireman standing between her and her baby brother, her beloved Cal, for whom she'd finally found a safe home.

She had been looking for their father, but she had found their uncle. Her mother, she had known, had one living brother, and she had found him. He was supposed to be coming the next day, to pick the two of them up. Clara hoped that the fire was not going to keep him from finding them.

She screamed again and pulled so hard against the firefighter that he fell and she raced towards the burning orphanage. Smoke or no, she went up the back stairs, wondering all the time where those firefighters had got to. She didn't even give her magic a passing thought as she physically assaulted the stairs in her desperate climb. She found out where the firefighters were, as she had to step over one of them to cross the threshold of the stairs. A large beam had fallen on him, and he was obviously dead. Clara's heart froze as she realized that Cal might have been crushed as well. Skipping over blazing wood, and edging away from flame-riddled walls, she came to the room she knew her brother was in. She flung the door open and there was Cal, half-dead from smoke inhalation.

She seized him in her arms and knew, without a doubt, that only one of them was going to make it out of that building alive. She hollered down to the firemen and they stretched out a great white sheet that looked a bit like a trampoline.

It took every ounce of strength she had, but she hoisted Cal onto the windowsill and shook him.

"Calvin! Wake up! I can't throw you, love. You'll have to jump."

He shook himself awake and the room and his sister spun before him. "Wha--?"

"Cal! You have to jump!" Clara was yelling at him; he couldn't really… he couldn't… jump? What? He was sleepy… Jump?

Clara shook him harder and he blinked up at her hazily. She knew then that he couldn't jump out of the window himself.

She edged him closer to the window and hoisted herself up next to him. She bit her lip.

"Cal?" she asked intently, cupping his face in her hands.

His eyes wandered hazily, but she brought her face up very close to his and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Cal, listen. I'm going to push you down. Listen to me! I'm going to push you down and the firemen will catch you, ok? Cal! I love you, little brother."

She kissed him, hesitantly. Then, calling on strength she did not know she possessed, she threw her baby brother out of the window. He shimmered briefly and she knew that her magic had given her aid one last time.

At that exact moment, the fire reached the gas lines of the kitchen and exploded into an inferno, eating every living thing in the house within milliseconds.

The force of the explosion blew the mid-air Cal away from the firemen's net and he landed half-in, half-out of it.

Blackness consumed him and he knew he was dead.

* * *

That lithe, sexy body was immediately thrown against Sirena Brown's bedroom wall.

"How dare you enter my chambers, insolent upstart!" she roared. "Where is Brown and how is it that I have been left as such? I have regained control! I demand release!"

Draco, stunned (and stunned was not something Malfoys often were), lay pinned to the wall and silent.

"I want to be released!" she shrieked. "Where is that idiot Brown?" She glared at Draco and sniffed the air.

"I smell magical confines and I want out!" She threw white lightning from the palm of her hand at the doorway, but it bounced off.

_Score one for Professor Flitwick,_ thought Draco smugly, _even minions of evil can't break his charms._

Sirena's eyes flashed as she watched her power fight against the boundaries to no avail.

Then she turned on Draco. "Why," she hissed. "Am I trapped in this room? This is not Marcus Brown's magic. It is you, the son of Lucius Malfoy, who keeps me here." She grabbed Draco by the throat.

_An easy feat for someone who has their opponent magically held against the wall, _thought Draco, pouting. _I could kick her ass. I could! _

Then he realized that he hadn't answered her.

"Yes," he said, unnecessarily and flamboyantly, "I am Draco Lucius Malfoy, the 107th heir to the Malfoy fortune, 77th Duke of Childes in the Muggle world, and 17th in line for the throne of England. No idea how Mother managed that, but I digress. And yes, I am the son of Lucius Culebro Malfoy, 106th Malfoy, and Death-Eater-Extraordinaire, if I'm not mistaken."

He smiled winningly at her. No female could resist The Draco Malfoy Look of Abundant Charm.

Sirena Brown did not seem impressed, but she did let go of his throat. "I know who you are, Malfoy. You are the son of a traitor, and it seems as if you have inherited your father's stupidity. Release me. Now."

Draco raised an eyebrow. This was going to be slightly harder than he'd thought.

"Um," he said daintily, "How about: 'Hello, Draco, darling, lovely to see you. Can I get you down off that wretched wall, which happens to be painted a rather atrocious shade of pink, and have a bit of a chat?' Because, to be perfectly honest, Sirena-darling, only I can undo the spell that keeps us both in this room." He turned his smile up to The Draco Malfoy Look of Irresistibility.

Sirena glared at him and then, blue eyes flashing, she waved her hand at him and he slid down the wall. He immediately jumped up and smoothed his hair and robes.

"Now," he said coyly. "That _is _so much better, my love. Let's talk." As he grinned at her, he felt for his wand in his sleeve. His first wand had been broken by Sirena Brown herself a few days earlier, but he'd managed to find a decent replacement, which he'd stored up his sleeve. It slid down into his hand. Malfoys were always prepared.

"Release me," she hissed. "Release me or die, traitorous vermin. You are not even worthy to be in my presence." Her eyes, haughty as ever, bored into him.

Draco's face changed completely. As did his tactics. "Not worthy? If I am so unworthy, darling, how is it that my pathetic spells keep the almighty Sirena Brown from leaving? Not to even mention, my dear," his teeth grated as he spoke, "That you are but a fifth year. Be logical, Sirena. And then, perhaps, you may realize that no one disrespects a Malfoy." His eyes glittered narrowly.

And then, Sirena Brown did the most amazing thing.

She laughed.

* * *

"He awoke to find that he most certainly wasn't dead," Cal said to Hermione softly. They were still sitting on her bed, she reclined against the pillows she'd propped behind her and he, sprawled casually across the foot of the bed. It felt so comfortable to her, just the two of them, sitting there, talking.

"He barely remembered anything in the three months that followed," Cal continued. "He recovered from the fall, of course, but his progress was slow. He'd broken most major limbs and was emotionally unreachable. His uncle came to claim him about a week after the fire. Following his release from the hospital, he went to live with his uncle. But he would not speak to anyone. Not his uncle, who was very kind to him, or even any of his old friends from the orphanage. No one could break the shell that he had created for himself. The death of his sister at the boy's hands was more than he could bear and he closed himself off to the world in his grief."

Cal smiled at Hermione, quietly saying, "And he remained that way for several years. His uncle tried and tried with him, but to no avail. The uncle eventually married a British woman, by the name of Palmer, and the boy and his uncle moved to England to her manor. He was about fifteen at the time."

Hermione frowned slightly, trying to remember. "Palmer?"

Cal nodded. "Yes, you may have heard of Simone Palmer-Kearson, the boy's new aunt. She is a Tinsley by birth; she's rather wealthy and _very_ influential. Her first marriage was to Brice Palmer, who was a Death-Eater and killed in the same year as the Dark Lord. She had a son from that marriage, by the name of Brett. Brett is a year or two older than I am. We became very close friends when my uncle and I moved to the Palmer-Kearson residence after Clara died."

Then he sighed and said, "Oh dear."

Hermione looked at him, amazement in her eyes. "It was you? The whole time, that little boy was you?"

Cal smiled grimly and said, "Yes. I killed my sister."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "What I meant by this story, Anastasia, is that you should try to open up about how you feel and allow yourself to begin to heal from the death of your friend. It hurt me deeply to realize later that I had lost so many years of my life. I realized that Clara never would have wanted me to waste away from guilt. You have to get past your self-blame and honor your friend Ron through celebrating life."

He looked earnestly into her eyes. She met his steady blue gaze with a shaky amber one.

She looked down. "I don't feel much like celebrating," she admitted.

He smiled, then, and hugged her. "No," he said. "But you do need to get up. Get dressed. Go on with life. You have a new set of parents to break in, from what I hear." He grinned impishly at her.

She laughed with him and then sighed gustily. "Yes," she agreed slowly. "I suppose that I must."

She looked at him intently, then, grabbing his hand. "Thank you, Cal McGregor. Thank you for helping me, for being a true friend."

He smiled at her, and brushed a lock of her honey colored hair from her face. "I hope that we will be good friends, Anastasia. Very good friends."

He squeezed her hand then, and stood. "I'll let you get dressed. I think your parents are quite anxious to meet you, as are your sisters."

* * *

Draco was really quite put out. He thought he had been truly menacing, really. To be truthful, he was absolutely furious about what she had done to Hermione, but more than that, he had wanted to find out why Sirena had done those things. And so he had used his usual strategies: be charming, then, when you have the upper hand, bring in the ruthless and intimidating.

It was rather insulting that she had laughed at him.

"'No one disrespects a Malfoy'?" she laughed. "How perfectly quaint, son of Malfoy. You really believe that, don't you? Well, let me explain it to you, boy: Lord Voldemort may _disrespect_ whomever he chooses. You are nothing compared to my greatness, boy, and disrespect to your family is hardly an issue here. The issue is of whether or not you will live to sire the 108th Malfoy. _That_ is up to you, boy. Release me now, or die."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said sarcastically. "I am _so_ afraid of you. You with your pitiful fifth-year magic. And like you even _know _You-Know-Who; your little threat about his 'greatness' is kind of empty, little girl—"

Sirena laughed again. "'Little girl'? Boy, do not shame yourself with such talk. Surely you recognize Lord Voldemort when you see him?" Sirena spread her arms out.

This time, both of Draco's eyebrows went up.

Sirena threw out a hand and, palm facing Draco, lowered it carefully. Draco felt his knees bend on their own accord and buckle.

He now knelt before Sirena Brown, who glared at him imperiously. "No?" she asked. Then she smiled, a truly evil smile. "Perhaps not. I suppose that while I inhabit this body, I ought not to expect to be recognized. Honestly, child of Malfoy, did you really think that Sirena Brown could have done any of the things that I have accomplished in the last few days? Did you really think that Sirena Brown _would_ have done any of these things?"

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** The word 'fag' in British is slang for cigarette (kind of like 'booze' in American for beer); just wanted to clarify, so as not to offend anyone.

* * *

Hello all. This is the ninth chapter of LD; I'm aiming for 20 chapters, thereabout. Believe it or not, there's still a lot of stuff yet to be explained (such as how Draco and Sirena end up getting married gasp!, how Hermione gets pregnant, all about the prophecy, the death of another beloved character, and a bunch more about Mione's kidnapping.)

I hope that that cliffhanger wasn't too bad. I tried not to make it too bad, taking pity on those faithful readers who have waited for this chapter for a long time.


	10. Ghost Train

**A/N:**

Just so everybody knows, and it is explained more in the chapter, HERMIONE is now ANASTASIA. You'll see why she wants to be called that and why, therefore, I have to call her that. I know it can be confusing with all the different characters, but I'll put a list of all the characters in the story at the end of the chapter, to try to stave off that confusion.

Um, I guess I owe a really long and heartfelt apology to anyone who liked this story, mostly in part because I haven't updated this story in 2 years (!!). All I can say is I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Here is your 4,800 word chapter as a peace offering…

* * *

_I took the cannonball down to the ocean_

_Across the desert from sea to shining sea_

_Love is a ghost train…_

_Remember everything… _

_When only memory remains…_

_Counting Crows_

**January 1997**

Draco was really quite put out. He thought he had been truly menacing, really. To be truthful, he was absolutely furious about what she had done to Hermione, but more than that, he had wanted to find out why Sirena had done those things. And so he had used his usual strategies: be charming, then, when you have the upper hand, bring in the ruthless and intimidating.

It was rather insulting that she had laughed at him.

"'No one disrespects a Malfoy'?" she laughed. "How perfectly quaint, son of Malfoy. You really believe that, don't you? Well, let me explain it to you, boy: Lord Voldemort may _disrespect_ whomever he chooses. You are nothing compared to my greatness, boy, and disrespect to your family is hardly an issue here. The issue is of whether or not you will live to sire the 108th Malfoy. _That_ is up to you, boy. Release me now, or die."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said sarcastically. "I am _so_ afraid of you. You with your pitiful fifth-year magic. And like you even _know _You-Know-Who; your little threat about his 'greatness' is kind of empty, little girl—"

Sirena laughed again. "'Little girl'? Boy, do not shame yourself with such talk. Surely you recognize Lord Voldemort when you see him?" Sirena spread her arms out.

This time, both of Draco's eyebrows went up.

Sirena threw out a hand and, palm facing Draco, lowered it carefully. Draco felt his knees bend on their own accord and buckle.

He now knelt before Sirena Brown, who glared at him imperiously. "No?" she asked. Then she smiled, a truly evil smile. "Perhaps not. I suppose that while I inhabit this body, I ought not to expect to be recognized. Honestly, child of Malfoy, did you really think that Sirena Brown could have done any of the things that I have accomplished in the last few days? Did you really think that Sirena Brown _would_ have done any of these things?"

Draco's jaw dropped.

_

* * *

_

_I__t's time, _she decided. _It's time to move on, move away from what I was. I am a new person; my name is Anastasia. _

Yes, it was time for Hermione to move away and become Anastasia. This realization came to the Spencer family slowly, with Alex and Izzy, Anastasia's two youngest sisters knowing first. They knew that in order for Hermione to accept all that had happened she needed to accept that she was truly Anastasia Spencer.

As Hogwarts had been closed for the rest of her fifth year, Hermione/Anastasia spent the time between January and September getting to know her family better, more deeply. She moved wholly away from her already estranged Muggle parents, the Grangers, and became a true Spencer daughter. She learned, with the help of her new sisters and friends, how to laugh again, how to smile. The pain and guilt of Ron's death lessened with the months she spent with her family.

Harry Potter, having lost his better half, was inconsolable for the entire spring. Arthur Weasley had been sent to fetch Harry back to the Burrow shortly after Ron's death, and Harry had been living at the Burrow ever since. He couldn't face anyone else; his guilt was too strong. He knew that if Ron had not felt the need to prove himself to Harry, he would never have gone to Brown Manor. Harry sought refuge from the questioning outside world at the Burrow, in the arms of his Ginny. They had quite literally clung to each other since January, each one bracing the other against the storm of emotion that swept over them. Harry, in the beginning, had been worried that the Weasleys blamed him for Ron's death, but that had not been the case. Molly Weasley had told him simply, as he'd walked in the door two days after Ron died, "We're all in it together, love."

Harry, like Hermione, spent the summer healing.

Draco spent it locked in the bottommost dungeon of Malfoy Manor. Shortly after Lord Voldemort revealed himself to be inhabiting the body of Sirena Brown, Marcus Brown and Wormtail had physically axed their way through Draco's walls of protection and accosted him. Draco had little time to reflect on Voldemort's revelation because his father showed up at Brown Manor immediately. Draco watched, rendered immobile through Sirena's powers, as Voldemort declared Lucius to be a Death Eater worthy enough to host him. Lord Voldemort shed the host of Sirena Brown, leaving her tired, useless, and looking about five years older than she actually was. He inhabited the body of Lucius Malfoy and imprisoned both the strong-willed Sirena and the stronger-willed Draco in the dungeons.

It was definitely an eye-opening summer for Draco. With food and water only being brought to them sporadically by Pettigrew, and nothing at all to occupy their time, Draco and Sirena talked away the days, learning more and more about each other with each passing week. Draco learned of how her father betrayed her to the Dark Lord, how he sold his younger daughter as proof of his loyalty to Lord Voldemort. Voldemort had been excited to enter Hogwarts again, and as Sirena, he could move about freely. The Dark Lord was also captivated by Sirena's extraordinary powers. She had just learned how to channel her magic without using a wand, and he considered her to be one of the strongest witches he had ever come across. Voldemort was fascinated by the possibility that the Chosen One could be more powerful than she was.

Sirena explained to Draco that it took an incredible amount of power for Lord Voldemort to keep her under the Imperius Curse night-and-day for several months. She explained that Voldemort had had to slowly leech power from his Death-Eaters in order to keep control. Sirena confirmed Draco's suspicions that the time he had seen pleading in her eyes was one of the few times she had regained control of her body.

Draco was astounded, in turn, to learn of Voldemort's plans. The Dark Lord had amassed huge amounts of information at the beginning of his reign of terror in the months before Draco was born. In learning of the prophecy that the Aurors had spoken of at the Inquest, Voldemort quietly informed several of his closest Death Eaters that if he should fall, they needed to look for a child that fit the prophecy and remove it. Of course, Voldemort's intent was to have the baby killed, but his minions, frightened by the sudden destruction of their Master, snatched the first baby that came to mind: the new Spencer girl, who was rumored to have a very strong magical potential.

Sirena had learned, through her symbiosis with the Dark Lord, that Nott, Zabini, and Goyle, three of the nastiest Death Eaters, kidnapped the baby the Muggle way: physically. They used no magic, so no trace of them would ever be found. But instead of killing the baby, they dropped her off at a nearby orphanage. And this was how Hermione became a Granger and a Muggle.

Draco was astonished by the complete incompetence of the Death Eaters. He could not believe the explanation was so simple. And he had to know: "Does this mean that Hermione is not the Chosen One?"

Sirena laughed hollowly. "I kept trying to tell him. It is _so_ unlikely that the Death Eaters actually snatched the right baby. I wonder if we'll ever know who the Chosen One really is."

They fell silent for a while. Draco was trying to think. Something was tugging at the back of his mind.

"Sirena?"

"Hm?"

"What do all the old myths say about the Chosen One?"

"Oh, there are several myths about the Chosen One. The prophecy started the whole business, but since then, people have been seeing things in dreams and the Seers, every once in a while, will predict something about it. The strongest thing that has come up since the original prophecy is that until the Chosen One realizes that they are the Chosen One, their powers will be extremely limited. I think that early on, many witches and wizards with little power were watched for signs of being the Chosen One until another Seer predicted that the level of power that the Chosen One would demonstrate would be so extraordinary, it would outrank any normal witch or wizard even before their Realization. They called it the Day Of Realization, by the way. The day when the Chosen One comes into their full power by truly recognizing themselves. They say that on that Day, the Chosen One will bend the earth with their power, destroying all evil and cleansing the magical world." Sirena looked thoughtful. "I wonder if we'll even be alive to see it, Draco."

Draco leaned his head back and smiled a little. God, this was just terrible. Sitting here in a dungeon, on the floor, not having anything to eat for the better part of two days, not having had a haircut in over a month, conversing on old mythology with the former handmaiden to the most evil power in the world. Draco shuddered to think of what his skin looked like after not being bathed for nearly six weeks.

The worst was over, though. The caffeine withdrawal had been excruciating, as had the tentative relationship between the two captives. She spent most of the first two weeks explaining to him just what, exactly, had been happening. And it had taken him several days to get over his mistrust. Sirena was, after all, the person that had kidnapped Hermione the second time, killed Ron Weasley, and pretty much driven his Hermione to suicidal depression. Or so he thought.

* * *

**August, 1997**

Anastasia Spencer was finally happy. She was finally happy. Her family loved her, and accepted her for who she was. She met so many new people though her sister Victoria, so many new friends. She finally felt like she belonged somewhere. She was no longer the third wheel of the Harry-and-Ron Show. She was no longer the boring bookworm. Hermione Granger was gone. Forever.

And on top of all of the new and exciting things that had stumbled into her life, there was Cal. Cal had been there, with her, every step of the way, on her summer of recovery. Cal was handsome, loving, caring, funny, sensitive, and kind, all of the things Draco could never hope to be. And Cal had never left her side, never abandoned her just when she needed him most. Unlike Draco.

Draco Malfoy was on Anastasia's mind very little these days. In the first few weeks after Ron's death she had pestered the Malfoy family as to his whereabouts, and had received no reply. Dumbledore could not find him, and she didn't know anyone else who even cared if Draco was still alive. She thought about him less and less as the weeks went on.

She was happy with the Spencers and with Cal. She loved being enveloped in that familial coziness that she had never experienced with the Grangers. It was something borne of blood, she was sure. And Anastasia was sure that she was starting to love Cal. He had not pushed her, had not tried to begin a relationship with her before she was ready for one. But he was there for her, and became one of her closest friends. She could not deny that she wanted them to be so much more. She wanted Cal.

Little did she know that it was all Cal could do to keep himself from under control when she was around. He _knew_ he was in love with her, the sweet, innocent, caring girl that had been so devastated by the loss of her best friend. He had fallen for her over the summer; every time he saw her, there was something else about her that captivated him. He wanted to hold her, protect her, and love her until the day he died. But he would wait until she healed. He respected her enough to wait. His love was strong enough. He could wait for her forever. Or so he thought.

* * *

**August 30, 1997**

A clattering sound woke Draco. It followed immediately by the telltale whining and creaking of the heavy iron grate the separated the Brown's back dungeons from the ones closer to the door. The back dungeons, Draco thought, made the front ones look like The Savoy. He slept on a ratty pile of straw, for Christ's sake. He had never before slept on anything less than 2,000 thread count pure silk sheets. He was not fed anything, much less the exquisite delicacies that he was accustomed to. He was incredibly put out.

"Gee, Parvati, I don't know," came a hushed, worried voice. "I don't hear anything."

All at once, Draco and the now-awake Sirena Brown started hollering and yelling at the tops of their lungs. Draco preferred to think of his whimpers of "Oh God, to have coffee again!" as manly, authoritative demands.

Lavendar Brown and Parvati Patil appeared in front of Draco's cell. In the pitch-black darkness, it seemed as if they had come from nowhere.

"Oh, my God," gasped Parvati, stepping away. "You keep _people_ down here?"

"Merlin's beard," said Lavendar, completely taken aback, "I had no idea… excuse me, sir, are you alright?"

"No, I am not 'alright' you dithering idiot," snapped Draco forcefully, "Unlock this cell instantly, or I will be forced to… well… trust me, it'll be bad."

"Oh," said Lavendar, fumbling with the set of keys in her hand, "I suppose one of these might unlock you, sir."

"It's a one-key-fits-all lock, Lav," said Sirena dryly, from the cell next to Draco's.

"Sirena!" Lavendar exclaimed, rushing to her sister's cell door. "Oh, holy heavens, Sirena! What are you doing down here? Where have you been? What is going on?!" She burst into floods of tears and Parvati, looking stricken, patted her gently on the back.

"Excuse me," Draco said, too politely. "Could we perhaps get a move on the 'freeing-us part' and leave the 'explaining-the-obvious' part for a better time?" His hands shook and he swore that his eye was beginning to twitch. Browns tended to have that effect on him.

"Oh!" exclaimed Lavendar, "Of course, sir." She stuck the rusty key in the lock and gave it a hard turn. Nothing happened.

"Try _Alohomora_ with it," Draco screeched.

"Of course, I'm sorry, " Lavendar, through her tears, managed to set both Draco and Sirena free.

As they hobbled up the stairs to the basement, Sirena explained what had happened to them.

"You're not really Draco Malfoy!" Both Parvati and Lavendar had not recognized Draco, through his filth and long hair. He was not surprised.

"Well," Parvati said conversationally, "We did know that you had been missing all summer as well, we just never put the pieces together."

Draco said nothing, but grimaced. These two had to be the dimmest witches he had ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with. With any luck, some of the other witches and wizards, like say Albus Dumbledore, had noticed the coincidental disappearances and had been searching for Sirena and Draco. And had good explanations ready for why they hadn't found them. It wasn't like Brown Manor was hard to get into.

Lavendar and Parvati led the two weary and worn jailbirds into the kitchen, where they sat down on actual chairs for the first time in nearly seven months. It hurt Draco to think that they had been locked in those dungeons since late January.

"When is it?" he asked suddenly.

The two dimwits looked confused.

"What month? What day?" asked Sirena more gently, with a pointed look at Draco.

Draco sank back in his chair. Ready as he was to rip into the first people he saw, Sirena was right, he needed to cool off first.

"Oh," said Lavendar brightly, "It's the 30th of August. And it's the funniest thing, too, Sage, dear, because I've been with Ti all spring and summer…"

"What do you mean?" Sirena interjected quickly.

"Well," said Parvati slowly, "They closed Hogwarts for the rest of the spring term, because of… well, Ron Weasley."

Draco sat straight up. He had forgotten about that.

Sirena pulled her legs up and hugged them close to her chest. Draco remembered her doing that in the dungeons whenever she was uncomfortable. She did that a lot when she talked about the things she had done while Lord Voldemort had taken control of her.

Parvati went on hesitantly, "Ron Weasley was killed in January, and because he devoted himself to finding Ron's killer, Professor Dumbledore decided that it would be best if the Hogwarts students came back in September instead of January. So everyone had a term off. We spent it all at my house, and sent Mr. Brown an owl telling him so. Then we came back here so that Lav could grab something from her room and so that she could see you, Sirena. You'd gone MIA all summer, but we figured you were holed up here with your father working on some project. Anyway, that's what we thought because Mr. Brown never sent us an owl back."

Sirena nodded sadly. Last summer, she and her father had spent the entire three months working on their family genealogy and had almost attacked Lavendar when she had interrupted them. They hadn't taken owls or received any visitors. Tears started to form in her eyes. She bit her lip to keep herself in control.

"And so we showed up here this morning and couldn't find any signs of life. There was dust everywhere and everything looked abandoned," Lavendar continued. "But we thought we heard voices coming from the gargoyle in Daddy's office. And it has never been haunted before, so we thought we'd go look through the house. When we got to the basement, Ti found this nasty old rusty door under a box that looked like it had been moved not too long ago. So, we opened it and heard something talking down there in the… well, the dungeons." She giggled.

"Not funny," said Sirena quietly. "They really are dungeons. And it's been horrible."

Lavender and Parvati were both quiet.

"What had Dumbledore been doing all this time?" demanded Draco suddenly.

"I don't know," Lavendar said, shrugging. "We haven't heard anything from Hogwarts other than things we'd expect, like textbook lists."

Sirena sighed. "I need to be clean before I start having to think about this," she said, raising herself up gingerly from her chair.

Draco heartily agreed and both of them trudged upstairs without another word.

* * *

Anastasia and Cal were strolling through her parents' garden, talking quietly.

"I start school the day after tomorrow," she said shyly.

"Yes," he said, hesitantly. "And you leave tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"I see."

After a while, she took his hand and said, "Cal, will you write to me?"

He smiled and brought her hand to his lips. "Every day," he said quietly.

Anastasia smiled. She loved how peaceful and calm their relationship was. It was steady, constant, tranquil. Adult.

Her stomach flipped at the thought of leaving him. Cal squeezed her hand.

She smiled. He always seemed to know what she was thinking.

Cal was afraid he was going to wrench her hand right off, he was gripping it so hard. He felt sick at the thought of leaving her.

They wound their way through the garden and back up to the house. Up the stairs, still smiling and looking at each other, but without speaking a word.

Slowly and quietly, into Anastasia's bedroom. Gently and smiling, undressing each other.

When they made love, it was an epiphany unlike any Anastasia had ever experienced. She felt whole, completed. She knew then that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Calvin McGregor.

Cal could not believe that their connection could be any deeper, but he was wrong. He had never felt so attuned to any one person in his entire life. He knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Anastasia Spencer.

* * *

Draco was clean. His _clean _hair was cut just to his chin and fell into his eyes in deep, swirling locks. Those _clean _eyes were bright, infuriated. And his _clean _nails dug into the ratty, flaky skin of Peter Pettigrew.

"You filthy rat-faced…" Draco proceeded to swear to the best of his abilities. He and Sirena, having evicted the clueless Lavendar and Parvati ("Fine! We'll just go back to Parvati's, where at least we're wanted!") rigged the entire house with traps set to catch Pettigrew.

They knew he would come to "feed" them. And they were ready.

"Draco!" Sirena scolded lightly. She sat, dressed casually in a light blue cashmere sweater and crisply cut blue jeans, with her now clean shoulder length curly hair pulled back from her face by golden hairpins with two crossed wands on them. Gold bracelets jingled at her left wrist. She flipped her hand over and Pettigrew was flung from Draco's clutches and against the opposite wall.

"Amazing," she said calmly from her seat on her favorite gold armchair. "I'm afraid that the Dark Lord was quite mistaken, Peter."

Pettigrew whimpered, pinned to the wall.

"He seemed to think that he could sap all of my energy. He barely touched the surface, I'm afraid. I've grown stronger every day, although I have been _dying_ to get out of those magical cuffs. Did you know that it took my sister two hours just to get mine off?"

Pettigrew began to slobber; he was petrified of Sirena.

She laughed coolly. Draco, who was taken a little off guard by Sirena's composed manner, sat gingerly on the green and gold sofa near Sirena's armchair.

"Sirena, don't you think it's time to dispense with the pleasantries and get to the point, then?" Draco said through gritted teeth.

Sirena smirked. "But of course."

She stood suddenly and strolled casually over to Pettigrew, who began to wet himself.

"Peter, I'm going to ask you very nicely. I won't harm you if you be a nice little rat and tell me where the Dark Lord is…" She placed one hand on either side of the wall next to Pettigrew's head. She stuck her face very close to his.

Pettigrew made a sharp squeaking noise, but answered her quickly, "Ee's at Malfoy Manor, Miss Sirena. Ee's waiting for you, Miss. Waitin' for you ta come for 'im. Been waitin' all summer for ya ta free yerself, Miss."

Sirena snorted. "So quickly do you betray your Master, Wormtail."

Pettigrew paled, but remained in control of himself. "Ee told me ta tell you where ee is, Miss Sirena. Eye'm under orders ta tell ya where ee is."

Sirena pursed her lips, but drew her hands toward her in a pulling motion. Pettigrew remained well above the floor, but moved away from the wall towards Sirena. She moved her hand forcefully across her body, right to left, and Pettigrew swept across the room towards the study.

"Be right back," Sirena said sweetly to Draco, who was now lounging, cat-like, on the couch.

She swept Pettigrew into the study, down the stairs, and into the back dungeons, where she promptly locked him in.

"You stay right here," she said, and without a backward glance, turned and left.

Upstairs, Sirena entered the sitting room, and said, "Come on, Malfoy. Let's go."

Draco grinned. This was his kind of girl. She knew it was time to kick some ass.

* * *

**August 31, 2004**

Anastasia, despite having parted with Cal that morning, _floated_ to the Hogwarts Express. She was so happy. She took her place in the prefect's cabin, with only a slight pang when she thought that Ron should be here with her. She bit her lip. This was going to be a tough year, with everything reminding her of her best friend. Which reminded her, she needed to find Harry. She knew from her letters from Ginny that he was holding up as best as could be expected, but he wasn't really up to seeing her yet. Perhaps now, after they'd been able to come to terms with Ron's death, she would be able to see Harry. She hoped so.

One person she hoped that she wouldn't have to see was Draco Malfoy. He had been so wonderful to her last year, and she had completely destroyed their relationship. From what her older sister Victoria told her, Draco had spent the better part of a week at her side, consoling her, being with her. Then he had left with the intention of finding out who had killed Ron. And he had never returned. Anastasia knew that wherever he was, he was trying to avenge Ron. For her.

And she had declared herself in love with him less than nine months earlier. How would he feel, having risked his life, having spent nearly the entire year trying to ease her pain, having to come back to her telling him she loved Cal? How would he _feel_? Anastasia could take a wild stab and guess that he would feel as if she betrayed him. Because if he had treated her this way, she would have felt betrayed. And used. And abused.

Oh, God. _What was she going to do?_

* * *

Draco did feel abused, but it wasn't because of Hermione. He felt abused because he had been abused. Seven months without coffee was, in his mind, cruel and unusual punishment. And abuse. Could he stress any more that he was abused? Severely. He had been kept away from his 2,000 thread count silk sheets. His favorite Brie cheese was nowhere to be found. This absolutely constituted abuse. The whole locked-in-a-dungeon-for-seven-months thing was secondary. He was going to get the filthy bastard who took away his coffee.

Sirena, poor thing, had been listening to such declarations for an hour. "Draco. Stop. I was there. I know."

"Well," said Draco snottily. "Just warning you. If I find out it was your dad, I won't even save you a piece of his ass to kick, my girl. He is going DOWN!" Draco was a little excited about being finally able to get some justification.

The two of them were flying, side-by-side, rather expeditiously towards Malfoy Manor.

They never made it.

* * *

**A/N:**

WHOO! I did it! Yeah, baby! That's what I'm talking about!

A chapter two years in the making! And it actually isn't even as good, I suppose, as it could be, but I'm done messing around with it. It's fine this way, and I'll take your complaints graciously.

I know I promised a pregnancy, but I think you know who it's gonna be. Since, you know, they were the only people getting it on in this chapter…

And I know I promised a death, and I may actually go back on that, but IDK??? Maybe I'll kill somebody. It just got so depressing after Ron died, so I may try to lighten things up a bit for a while.

Oh, yeah and I thought the ending of this chapter was dragging a bit, so I cut it and pasted it into the beginning of Chapter 11. (That would be the Draco-Sirena marriage part!)

Erm, what other promises can I make for the near future?? Hmm, well, you should read The Seer: Adam's Story if you can, because it clarifies about where this story is going to end up. As in, one of the last scenes from the last chapter of LD is in Adam's Story…

So. Chapter 11 will hold: Draco and Sirena's marriage (who'd've thunk?), a pregnancy, Harry and Hermione's reunion, an explanation from Dumbledore, and somebody cheats on somebody!! (who is it? Harry? Ginny? Draco? Sirena? Cal? Hermione? WHO KNOWS?!)

Anyways, sorry this was so long in the making, again. Please review if you have the heart and/or willpower to ('cause in order to figure out what's been going on here, you'll probably have to go reread the rest of LD… sorry).

:) SB


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